A Second Chance from Rhubarbs and Penguins
by schu-jfk
Summary: Schuldig mysteriously shows up at the flowershop one day in dire need of Aya's help... but what kind of hold does he really have over Aya and what will the other Weiss member say? What kind of secret could possibly make Aya accept an enemy in their midst?
1. Just Another Day in the Shop

_Present day_

It was supposedly a spring evening, but it was still damn cold to be huddling in a fucking alley across the street from the Koneko. The brick walls were cold to the touch, and sometimes it seemed that that chill was the only thing able to stop the world from drifting in and out of focus the way it did whenever he tried to move.

Schuldig was _cold_. He had tried several times to pull his sodden jacket closer around himself, but his fingers refused to grasp the fabric. Hell, even smoking was out of the question since he wasn't even able to pull the cigarette pack out of his pocket.

He knew he had to hurry. All day, he'd been hiding behind a dumpster, too tired and cold to move much, and too scared to use his mental powers more than absolutely necessary in case they were on his trail already. It was probably a bit early to worry about such things, but he had no idea how long that bastard pre-cog had known about his "impending treachery," so in theory, nothing was impossible. For all he knew, they could be looking for him this very moment.

By now, the flower shop was only minutes from closing, and, unless he moved soon, so was Schuldig. A very careful mental scan of the place made him hiss in annoyance.__

Fuck.

All day, the place had been swamped with first schoolgirls, then older housewives, then schoolgirls again and finally rushed business men on their way home from work, but at the moment, it contained but one person. And with Schuldig's good fortune, it was the one person least likely to ever warm up to him – Tsukiyono.

_Just my damn luck, _Schuldig thought sourly to himself as he hauled his unwilling body up from the ground, grimacing with pain. But it would have to do. The crowds were thinning out, so he quickly made his wobbly way across the street, warily shielding his swollen face with his hair as best as he could. He reached the door, resisting the strong urge to look over his shoulder as he slid inside the shop, rapidly slamming the door shut again. The bell above his head jangled cheerfully, making Schuldig want to shoot it.

Tsukiyono had his back to him, obviously working with something on a table, his fair head bent deeply over the task. As he heard the door open, he started to turn, the polite and slightly exasperated phrase of greeting dying quickly on his lips.

"Welcome to the Kit – _you_! What are you doing here?"

The young assassin quickly backed away from the table, a pair of shears held out in front of him in warning and panicked defence. Schuldig grinned darkly at him.

"Drop the deadly weapon, Tsukiyono. I'm not here to fight you," he grunted.

"Why should I believe you?"

The kid's eyes were as angry and frightened as his voice, and he kept looking around the shop, as if looking for some kind of weapon or one of his team mates. Or both.

"Because if I had, you'd already be… dead, so chill. I'm looking for… Fujimiya."

Schuldig spoke with an effort now; the heat and smells of the shop making breathing even harder than it had been. He coughed cautiously, trying very hard not to wince.

"Aya? What do you want with him?"

Suspicious blue eyes seemed to try and nail him to the door, and the German didn't even have to look at the kid's mind to know that he was puzzled by his behaviour.

"That's between him and me, kiddo. Just bring him, will you?"

Not very eloquent, perhaps, but his tongue had started feeling very dry and thick, making it hard to articulate. He just wanted to hurry.

"You bastard. Do you really think I'd leave him alone with _you_? Don't take me for an idiot, Schuldig, I'm warning you."

The angry snarl was turned into a nervous yelp as Schuldig, dizzy and desperate, growled and tried to move forward, but the redhead never got as far as to touching the kid. As soon as he moved, the pain spread through his chest like petals of a flower opening up to the sun.

He saw more than felt himself crashing to the floor, buckets and pots breaking and rolling away with a clattering noise. Schuldig cursed loudly as his knees hit the floor hard; that and shards piercing the skin of his palms adding to his hurts. He stayed very still for a long time, breathing fast and shallowly, before slowly straightening, noting with dismay that his arms were shaking.

Through the thick, fiery veil of hair covering his face, he could see a pair of thin, bare legs warily stepping closer. The kid was obviously feeling bolder now, with his enemy on his knees in front of him, splayed in a puddle of shards and water.

_Coward_, Schuldig thought sourly. His pants were wet and sticking to his legs.

"What's happened to you?"

The light voice was curious, suspicious. Schuldig raised his head with an effort and grinned bloodily at the kid.

"Let's call it… conflict of interest within the team, shall we?" he said tartly.

"_Schwarz _did this to you? Why?"

"Look here, kid, I don't have all the time in the world, so would you just get Fu…"

A hand connected with his face suddenly, making Schuldig gasp in surprise, his aching head reeling. Had the kid just _slapped _him?

"Fuck, you little bastard! What was _that_ for?" he snarled, spitting blood on the floor, glaring.

"Where should I start?" Tsukiyono replied acidly, his arms angrily crossed over his chest. "Tell me why you want to see Aya."

"I told you, it's betw…"

Another slap hit him, momentarily blinding him, and he almost toppled over backwards but managed to grab the end of the table to steady himself, his bloody fingers slipping on the rough surface.

"I'm not going to leave you alone with him, you murderous bastard. Did you really think I would be _that _stupid?"

The kid was almost fuming now, and Schuldig was beginning to feel just a little bit worried. From all their earlier interactions, he'd had no idea that the little shit could be _this _fucking hard-nosed, and there was no way he could fight him in his current state. Hell, even _Nagi _could have wrestled him down easily right now. Perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea after all. But it was the only one he'd had.

"Dammit, kid," he gasped, "can't you see I'm in no bloody shape to hurt…"

"Omi? What was that noise… _Schuldig_?

A third voice cut in suddenly, and for once in his life, Schuldig could have wept with relief. Finally someone you could talk some sense into.

If only it didn't hurt so bloody much.

"Fujimiya," he grunted, trying to focus his gaze on the slowly advancing newcomer.

"Stay back, Aya! It's a trap," he heard Tsukiyono say angrily, and he tried shaking his head but found he could barely move it.

"Not… trap," he gasped, raising a shaky hand to grab the other man's shirt. He was vaguely aware of Tsukiyono moving to strike him again, but this time he was easily held back by a pale arm. Fujimiya didn't budge as Schuldig grabbed him weakly, pulling him closer.

"Fujimiya… your sister…" he whispered, closing his eyes against the loud roaring noise in his head. Fujimiya jerked and shifted position, and that alone was enough to topple the German over.

"What about her?" a dark voice demanded urgently, but Schuldig was already falling, his mind shutting down completely. For a moment, he was sure that the black in front of him meant he had fainted, until he realised it only meant his face was pressed against Fujimiya somehow.

And _then_ he fainted.

/tmp/uploads/1114304.doc


	2. I'm NOT drunk!

_2 weeks earlier, east end Tokyo..._

"Fucking bastard," Schuldig muttered to himself as he stared into the bathroom mirror, the fingers of one hand thread through a mass of fiery strands. Frowning disapprovingly, he tried leaning in closer to his reflection, but as he had suspected, the bruise wouldn't go away just because he willed it to; the almost cheerful purple, black and blue looking all the more livid in the sharp light.

He tried prodding it with two fingers and hissed through clenched teeth in annoyance as it smarted fiercely. He was probably lucky to still have all his teeth.

"Smack in the face. Asshole," he swore, turning his head this way and that, glaring at his chin to no avail.

There was a vague pain accompanying it, just a dull throbbing at the moment, but that was probably due to the three or four beers he had already had, as preparation for the night to come. By tomorrow, it would probably be a lot worse.

But let's deal with tomorrow's worries tomorrow, he thought philosophically. Tonight was Saturday, and downtown Tokyo wouldn't stop moving just because he had a shiner.

One last look in the mirror confirmed that everything was in its place, so Schuldig merely shrugged and strolled out of there, pausing only to snatch his black leather jacket and sling it over his shoulder before heading downstairs.

As he silently padded through the living room, he spotted a dark head poking up from beneath a pile of books and grinned to himself. Dear little Nagi, always as dutiful and meticulous.

"I'm leaving now" Schuldig announced loudly and cheerfully, making Nagi jump and glare up at him.

"Where are you going?" the kid demanded, dark blue eyes tense and a little worried. He didn't much like being left alone in the house with Crawford and Farfarello; it always made him uncomfortable.

Schuldig couldn't say he blamed him, although it was more than a little weird to think that having him around would improve the kid's sense of security much.

"Out."

"I gathered as much," was the dry reply. "Out where?"

"Depends." There was a plate of grapes resting on the table next to the pile of books, so Schuldig reached out and snatched a couple, chuckling as he easily evaded the swat Nagi was aiming at him with his ruler. His mirth was cut short, however, as a sharp mental slap was aimed at the back of his head.

"Ow, dammit!" he growled, rubbing at the sore spot. "You cheated, you little shit!"

"All is fair in love and war," was the absentminded reply as Nagi studiously ignored him, his eyes trained on some stupid book.

"Why, Nagikins, I didn't know you felt that way about me," Schuldig smirked as he went out into the small hallway to pull on his boots.

"In your dreams, slut."

"Not really. Where's Crawfish, by the way?

He could feel rather than hear the boy's irritation, and he barely had to listen to know the expected answer.

"Stop calling him that, Schuldig."

"Mind your own business. Same shit, different name and all that. Where is he?"

"Asleep. His visions gave him a headache again."

"Poor darling. Then he won't mind me leaving," Schuldig said in a mocking tone of voice and slid the door open. "See you later, kid. Have fun with the homework," he scoffed, closing the door behind him.

As he leaned against it, smiling to himself and hauling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, he heard the kid's voice in his mind. It was barely audible, and Schuldig knew it wasn't meant for him, but there it was nonetheless.

But _I_ mind you leaving.

He stuck a cigarette into his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply as he tried to ignore the small twang of guilt that tugged at him. Dammit, the kid always had a way of getting to him.

"Must be getting soft in your old age, Schuldig," he huffed to himself and took another drag of his cigarette before heading outside and into the warm night.

---

The brightness and volume of the crowd around him was really rather mind-boggling, Schuldig thought jovially as he sauntered through the thick masses of people filling the street, the air heavy with expectation, cigarette smoke and the smell of food from various stands.

Not that he minded it much. The noise from outside of his head confused the constant mumble inside of it enough that both were tolerable, for once, and it was a very cheerful Schuldig that slowly picked his way through the streets, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

He didn't have a particular goal in mind; any place or person that could get him good and properly wasted would do. 

Quietly breaking loose from the throng, he slipped in through an open doorway. The dark interior was quite a shock to the eyes at first, but he soon got used to it and slid down onto a chair by the counter, eyeing the selection of drinks. Expensive, but strong. Just the place he was looking for.

Many hours later, a slightly less steady Schuldig made his wobbly way out of yet another bar and out into the streets. The crowds had thinned out considerably by now, which was good since he was quite royally pissed at this point.

The commotion inside his head had been reduced to a dull throbbing hours ago, as had the aches and pains of his battered body, but he was still looking for something else, something… better. He had spent many hours on the dance floor during the night, tightly coiled around this or that unknown beauty, but so far, no one had attracted his curiosity enough to warrant anything more.

And he needed something more, dammit. It would stop the noise, would make sure there was blessed silence, if only for a little while. It would probably also annoy Crawford, making it a double pleasure for the German.

Crossing the sidewalk, he weaved a dangerous path across the road, having spotted yet another club. They were all the same, really; loud, smoky and stinking from an excessive amount of people crammed together, but there was no harm in looking anyway, was there?

He had barely stepped inside as he stopped dead in his tracks, swaying dangerously back and forth before finding a wall he could lean against, his eyes narrowing.

There was someone in this bar with a very familiar mental flavour, but he couldn't quite place it… oh, holy shit. Now _that_ was unexpected.

Schuldig smirked to himself. Damn, those Weiss were more unpredictable than he had given them credit for. If it had been Kudoh he had stumbled across in a place like this, he would barely have raised an eyebrow – the man was a little horny slut, after all - but this?

He carefully approached the table. The other man hadn't even noticed him and Schuldig shook his head with a grin. How reckless. It would be so easy for him just to sneak up on the other redhead and…

But hang on. Damn right it would be easy – too easy. And easy usually meant less fun. And if it was anything Schuldig was good at, it was having fun.

---

"Just serve me another, and don't tell me how much I can handle!" Aya said sourly to the barkeep and held out his glass for another double whiskey. He looked around for a dealer, needing something harder. Anything to make the feeling of inadequacy go away. Aya-chan had been gone for more than a week, and nothing he could do would bring her back. He felt dreadful about being here, instead of out there looking for her, but with each fresh drink he knew just how hopeless it was anyway.

Spotting a familiar face he purchased a small envelope of powder. He sat down at the bar again, inhaling quite openly. Well, everyone else did too in that place, which was kind of why he went there. His mind was quickly enveloped in a soft haze and he sighed into his whiskey, finally beginning to relax a little, numbness replacing the emptiness. He jumped when he heard a familiar snarl in his ear.

"Well, fancy finding such a prissy flower boy in a place like this! If I may pay you a compliment, you look like shit, Abyssinian."

"You..." Aya didn't know how to react. He was unarmed, pissed as a newt and high as a kite. If Schuldig wanted to kill him all he had to do was basically to topple him off his chair. He shrugged, not really caring, but doubting that Schuldig would attempt anything so drastic in a crowded bar. "Well, let me return the compliment then," he drawled. "You look just like yourself!"

"Ha! Was that supposed to be an insult?" Schuldig laughed and sat down on the suddenly available seat next to Aya's. "I thought you could do better. A sorry state to find an adversary in. Hardly worth the effort to fight you."

"I'm not gonna fight you." Aya whispered dejectedly. "If you want to kill me, have it done with, I don't give a shit!" He reached for his glass and downed the whiskey, waving at the bartender to bring another. He suddenly looked at Schuldig with a wicked grin, finding the situation quite amusing. "Care to join me? I'm buying!" Aya waved at the bartender and held up two fingers, pointing at Schuldig.

"Sure, as long as you keep buying." Schuldig grinned back and made himself more comfortable, then looked at Aya. "I'm not here to kill you, so you can take that martyr look off your face."

"What are you doing here then?"

"Same as you, looking to get stoned. I saw you scored back there. Share?"

"Sure… why not?" Aya snorted and handed Schuldig the envelope, watching as he helped himself to a snort, and then handed it back. "Didn't know you were… using. Got it bad?" Aya commiserated.

"Bad enough…. Get the shivers if I don't, besides, can't be bloody bothered to live without it. Gives me a little peace." Schuldig closed his eyes and enjoyed the rush of blood to his brain, almost drowning out the voices for a few precious seconds. "And you… why do you seek oblivion? I'd thought you'd sleep well on all your good deeds."

The familiar smirk made Aya sneer back. "Don't sleep. No point. Only leads to another bloody day."

"Oh… I thought you guys always looked so… happy?" Schuldig grinned, accepting the whiskey from the bartender, handing Aya his glass.

"Yeah, right! Here's to happiness!" Aya scowled and held his glass up to Schuldig "…if The Beatles were right, that is," he mumbled, singing in a low voice: "Happiness… is a warm gun."

"You really are a merry little thing tonight, huh?" Schuldig grinned, finding it rare to meet a man with a mood to match his own so well.

"You would be too if you were me. No friends. No family. No prospect of ever getting one... or getting it back!" Aya whispered so softly that Schuldig had to strain to hear what he was saying.

"Oh, come on. You're only a kid. What are you, 20-21? You can get a family. Wifey, kids, car and half a dog. I can see that happening to you," Schuldig said, almost kindly.

"Not bloody likely!" Aya blubbered sourly into his whiskey. "Can't… abide women!"

'No, I know. They nag somewhat awful, and… Oh!" Schuldig's eyebrows were suddenly raised as he scanned the surface of Aya's mind and realised his own naïveté. "You mean… you prefer men?"

"Not only prefer… can't… at all, with a woman."

"Well then, you should be happy as a clam living in your nice little manly community, with three guys!"

"Hell no! It's a pain in the ass living there!" Aya complained without looking up.

Schuldig's raw laughter brought Aya out of his drunken stupor for a minute and he frowned at him, shaking his head at the coarse, yet unspoken joke. "I should bloody think so, you lucky punk." Schuldig punched him lightly in the shoulder, and Aya flinched.

"Baka!" He sneered and drank of his whiskey, turning to face the other redhead. "They are not! Not that it's any of your business, but not… any of them. I don't think so. Ken and Yohji are always slobbering over women, and Omi's just too young to know Eve from Adam yet. It's lonelier living there than on the street! I can't even talk to them about it… they'd probably be disgusted! Like you are. Good bloody job I don't care."

"Like hell you don't care. And I'm not!"

"You're not what?"

"Not disgusted."

"Why not?"

"I'm not exactly innocent, now am I, little sword wielder? I know what gay is, and I know what gay does."

"Are you gay?" Aya stared open-mouthed at Schuldig and quickly sipped at his whiskey to hide his surprise.

"Technically, no."

"'Didn't think so!" Aya went back to sipping his whiskey, oddly disappointed.

"Not exactly straight either," Schuldig admitted, taking a deep sip from his own drink, looking intensely down into the glass.

"Not straight? Oh… you swing both ways?"

"I don't swing!" Schuldig looked disgusted at the term. "I take… what I want from the buffet. I've been with women, loads of them. It's ok. They're just so bloody fragile. Break too easily. I prefer the more sturdy company of a man."

"In bed?" Aya paused in his drinking to look up again, staring at Schuldig as if he'd never seen him before.

"No, when I go scuba diving, you idiot! Yes, in bed! It's just more of a challenge with a man. Though, I don't like butch men. I prefer a type like…" he looked around the bar, and then returned his gaze to Aya. "…like you, actually." He smiled as Aya's jaw dropped visibly.

"Well, I'll be damned! Masterminds' a pillow biter!" Aya snickered to himself, and then swayed on his barstool as the drink began to take effect. "Oops, sorry" he said as he fell into Schuldig and quickly righted himself. "Not quite… sober."

"I've noticed." Schuldig said overbearingly. "Why the hell _are_ you so bloody pissed? Bad day at the office?"

"Yeah… you can say that. Can't find my sw…sni…sister, Aya. She's locked in a coma… and someone has apparently moved… or taken her. Even… even if I find her, she's never going to get out of that coma."

Schuldig looked oddly at him, as Aya had apparently forgotten who it was that kidnapped his sister in the first place. Oh, well. Better keep his mouth shut for now.

Aya didn't notice it, but tears started trickling down his cheeks. "One thing… one thing my mother asked me to do. 'Always take care of your sister, you're the elder, her brother, it's your responsibility, promise me that.' Well, I promised her! And I failed! Sometimes I wish she would just die, so I could too."

Aya swayed again, and held out a hand to Schuldig to steady himself. "Just… want peace, but I can't find it anywhere. I hear my mother's voice in my mind all the time, 'take care of her, take care of her'. Incessantly! I want it to stop!" Aya turned tear-filled eyes to Schuldig, not caring whether it was friend or foe sitting next to him, just needing to share his torment with another living being.

"Oh, you think you're bothered by voices in your head?" Schuldig almost laughed out loud and told Aya of his little problem with eight million voices, give or take a hundred thousand, in his head. When he had finished his story Aya had stopped crying, and just sat staring.

"That… stinks!" Aya finally said drunkenly, putting a hand on Schuldig's thigh for balance. "Have another drink, with me? You… you probably need it even more than I do." He hiccupped once as he called the bartender over and asked for a bottle. The two of them sat in relative silence, steadily drinking the entire bottle of whiskey, now and then looking up to assure the other one that life really did stink, and it was nice to agree on at least one thing.

" Wrright… swould be getting home fnow." Aya declared and stood up, promptly folding like a jack-knife, lying prone across Schuldig's lap, slight snoring noises emitting from the vicinity of his mouth. Schuldig sighed, hefted him up on his shoulder and made his wobbly way out of the bar and hailed a cab. He had to repeat the address three times, his Japanese had suddenly got very slurry, but after re-directing the driver a few times they drove up in front of a little flower shop.

Schuldig got them both out of the cab and rummaged around Aya's pockets for a key. He found it, and let them in through the side door. He mustered the last of his mind power to ensure that everyone else in the house were fast asleep and made his way up stairs with his sleeping charge. He found the one empty room that had to be Aya's and pulled off their overcoats and boots, before letting them both drop down on the large bed.

--

Several hours later Schuldig woke, disorientated at first, but when he felt the steady breathing next to him he remembered where he was, and he grinned a little at his own folly. Right smack in the enemies' nest. Too much whiskey and coke in him for his own good, and he didn't even feel like running. Instead he moved closer to the sleeping body next to his, rubbing his pelvis against Aya's, his lips curving in a smile when there was an instant reaction, and Aya stirred, slowly waking.

"Is that your sword, or are you happy to see me?" He grinned.

"That's my sword!" Aya grinned and tried to ignore his hangover and the fact that Schuldig smelt damned good, whiskey fumes aside.

"You don't feel overdressed?" Schuldig suggested as he shrugged out of his own clothes first, dumping them very un-assassin like in a pile on the floor next to the bed, and then turned his attention to the buttons of Aya's pants, finding no resistance from the reclining redhead.

"Yeah…a bit." Aya agreed and pulled his sweatshirt off as Schuldig yanked his pants down over his hips and thighs, Aya aiding him by kicking them off his ankles. He was beginning to feel faintly sober, only too aware that there was not only a warm body in bed with him, but the body was one of a deadly enemy. There was however, a part of him that didn't care what the mind of the body next to him entailed.

That part was the virgin part. The 'fucking tired of being a virgin part' of the man. Twenty-two! Fucking twenty-two and still a virgin! Flashes of his mother and father talking about his future girlfriends, his mother turning away when he asked for a hug saying that at the age of sixteen it was no longer her job. His father telling him how to take a woman with patience as he worked so hard not to show his disgust at the very idea. The cold, cold years since then. All those years, when no one had touched him, unless they were trying to kill him.

But there was another part of him, the part between his legs that now reacted violently to knowing it was _a man_ in his bed now, a man stripping him, a man that wanted to touch him … and more. It was hard to breathe, he could clearly hear his own laboured breathing, sure that the sound demanded the attention and awareness of both of them.

"Schuldig…?" … he whispered, not sure whether to tell him to go ahead or warn him to go slow, but above anything else not wanting him to stop. He felt warm fingers running up the inside of his thigh as a pair of lips closed around his right nipple and he moaned loudly, surprised at his own response to such a light touch. And then he almost roared as a hand closed around his already throbbing shaft.

He felt like such an amateur as he bucked into the pumping fingers, sure that Schuldig already knew what an inexperienced virgin he was, and then suddenly relaxed as his mind sobered enough to remember that Schuldig _did _know 'Of course he knows', Aya chided himself. Y_ou can read it from my mind, can't you? And you still want me? _he thought, knowing it would be received, spreading his legs knowing that _that _message would be received too.

The kiss nearly made him keel over. He had no idea it could feel this good and his hands shot up to entangle themselves in the long, cool hair. Oh, but this was good! And that hand… and those fingers! Oh... fuck! What WERE those fingers doing.. oh, nononono...oh, yesyesyes... that's why it was forbidden? It was too good to share? His eyes flew open as he heard his own mouth command Schuldig to take him and then almost sing out in pleasure as something large and hard pressed against him, and into him, rocking his world in every way possible. Rocking _him._ Taking him. Sending him sky-high and then holding him in an embrace normally reserved for those you love dearly.

---

When he woke in the morning there was of course no trace of anything but a hangover. Aya laughed to himself as he gingerly sat up in bed, carefully shaking his head at the silly dreams he'd had. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. And came to the harsh realisation that he was definitely no longer a virgin! He rapidly concluded that he had better lie down again and analyse the 'weird Schuldig dream' a little closer, starting with the fact that the pillow smelled of lemon and there were teeth marks around his nipple.

He liked the smell of the pillow...

/tmp/uploads/1114304.doc


	3. An Aftertaste of Aya

_A/N: Before I begin, both me and Rann would like to give huge thanks to glinwulf, gonyos, eva84 and Luna-Lunak (thanks for the cookies!) for the great reviews – they are truly heart-warming! This chapter will be rather short, but there is more, so no worries. ;)_

3. An Aftertaste of Aya

The sun had already risen by the time a dishevelled, grinning German made his way out onto the streets, mingling with the early morning traffic. People were staring at him, as usual, offended by and curious about his provokingly colourful appearance, but he felt mellow enough to ignore them.

Last night had been quite different from what he had imagined, but Schuldig was a flexible person, and variety was the spice of life.

And goddammit… it had been _good_. Strange, but good. The sex had, despite the little Weiss-boy's obvious inexperience, been bloody amazing. Just thinking about that lithe, pale body writhing under him made Schuldig shiver a little in remembered pleasure, grinning inanely at the passers-by. But the memory also brought a few disturbing thoughts with it.

Frowning, the German pulled out a mangled pack of cigarettes, tapping one out and lighting it as he unhurriedly strolled through the streets of Tokyo. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, but seeing as he was walking home, he had plenty of time to think it through.

He'd gone in with the intention of toying a little with the other man, perhaps even get a good fuck out of him and then possibly seep out a little information that could be used to taunt him later. True to form, the sex had been there, but… He had been completely devoid of any wish to hurt the other redhead. He had even sat there, listening intently to the worries and fears of the little flowerboy and he'd actually given him _advice_. _Him_._ Schuldig_ had sat there, drunk as a skunk, and encouraged _Fujimiya Aya_ into thinking that life would be okay after all.

Fuck, life was weird.

Shaking his head, he stopped at a crossing, leaning against a lamppost as he waited for the lights to switch. What the hell was wrong with him? Even on his best of days, he wasn't exactly very understanding or patient when it came to… well, anything, really. He must have been more stoned than he thought.

But then, what harm could it do? The little Ice Prince had actually been quite interesting to talk to, and Schuldig supposed it wouldn't kill him to be a little lenient for once and just enjoy himself. He had been off duty, after all, and a little normal conversation probably did him good.

That explanation would simply have to do for now. It had been a good night, and the expected hangover was still just a vague threat – probably because it was so early that he was still drunk, but anyway. All in all, it felt like time well spent.

The conclusion that all was still well with the world as he knew it had put Schuldig in a decidedly good mood, good enough to make him ignore the small warning signals that were tugging at his subconscious as he turned onto the street where the Schwarz penthouse was located.

By the time he got into the lift, his mind was literally screaming at him to be careful, but he was sluggish and sleepy after a night of sex, drugs and at least three beers too many and blithely shrugged it off, lulled into the security of knowing the rest of his team were still asleep.

He was wrong, of course. As soon as he had gotten the key in the keyhole of the neutrally white door, the door was slammed open, having the unfortunate effect of slamming Schuldig into the opposite wall. He winced as the wall connected painfully with the back of his head, making the world spin around him, and before he had had time to get his bearings, there were hands digging into the collar of his jacket and dragging him into the apartment.

"Hello there, baby, missed me already?" he smirked while trying to stop his vision from blurring enough to at least render him able to see his attacker. Not that he didn't know who it was.

"You've slept with one of the Weiss boys," a cold voice stated calmly as the owner of said voice pressed him up against the wall and grabbed a hold of his hair, painfully yanking his head backwards. The door slammed shut, making Schuldig start.

"Yeah. So? He was good," he said with feigned ease, trying to move his head a little; the position was becoming uncomfortable rather quickly since all he could see was the roof. A small sliver of panic was beginning to prick at him, but he shoved it aside and grinned.

"Hey, Crawford? You trying to yank my hair out?" he asked casually, leaning back against the wall. "Won't give you much to hang on to, will it?"

"Shut up, slut."

Schuldig laughed and finally managed to yank his hair free from the death-grip it was in, turning amused eyes to his team leader. Their eyes locked for a moment, cold brown clashing with twinkling blue, before Schuldig smirked, leaning in to whisper against the pale skin of Crawford's neck:

"Make me."


	4. Is It Alive?

_Present day_

"Aya, no!" Omi shouted as his teammate moved in to catch the slumping German, but it was too late. The red head lay heavily against Aya's shoulder, and Omi watched in utter surprise and not a little disbelief as the older man put his arms around the limp body and began to carefully haul it away from the mess on the floor.

"W-what are you…? I mean, what are we going to do with him?" Omi asked carefully, secretly fearing that Schuldig would suddenly sit back up and grin at them, right before shooting them between the eyes. Or perhaps making them do it to each other, just for fun.

But the German remained limp in Aya's arms, only moaning softly as the other redhead, without waiting for Omi's help, tried getting him up on the worktable, the surface becoming dark and sticky with blood in no time.

There was already a stubborn set to Aya's jaw that Omi only knew all too well, and as he finally answered the question, what he said came as no surprise.

"You heard him. He said he knows something about Aya-chan. We need to find out what that is. Go get the medical kit for me, he's been shot. We have to stop the bleeding. Did you fight?"

He turned his attention briefly back to Omi, a little of the hard, determined edge to his eyes vanishing for a moment as he scanned his younger teammate for injuries. "Did he hurt you?"

"N-no. We didn't fight, he… he said he came here to see you," Omi replied, frowning. He still couldn't really figure out why the German would demand to see Aya specifically, unless…

_Schuldig wanted to tell Aya-kun something about Aya-chan. But why couldn't he just have told _me_? He must have known I would have told Aya…_

A thought, a very strange thought began forming in the young killer's mind, and he looked sharply at his teammate who had begun pulling the soaked jacket off their unconscious… guest? Hostage? Enemy? Just… Schuldig.

"He did?"

Aya looked as puzzled as Omi felt, but he said nothing as he flung the jacket aside and laboriously started to peel Schuldig's shirt off, wincing at the amount of blood. Omi kept staring at him, trying to summon enough courage to ask what was disturbing him.

"Aya-kun," he finally said hesitantly, "you and Schuldig…"

A door opened and closed.

"Whoa! What the hell is _that_?"

Omi groaned. He loved his oldest teammate dearly – almost most of the time – but there were times when his explicitly bad timing made Omi wonder how he could ever have survived this long as an assassin.

"Fuck – _Schuldig_? What the_ hell_ is he doing in the shop?"

Yohji's voice sounded angry, and it was no wonder. He hadn't suffered as much from the telepath's vicious games as Omi, but there was something in the older assassin that deeply resented people treading on his team mates, whether he would admit it or not. And besides, Schuldig had gotten a girl shot and killed – not something that Yohji took lightly.

So no one could blame him for looking more than a little angry as he stepped up to the table and prodded the German suspiciously. 

"Don't," Aya said curtly, and Yohji looked oddly at him.

"Why not? He looks dead, anyway. Is he? Did you kill him?"

There was an almost hopeful tone to his voice, and he groaned as Aya shook his head.

"He's not dead, I didn't kill him, and neither will you, got it?"

"What the – "

"He said he had information about Aya-kun's sister," Omi volunteered quietly, since it appeared Aya himself was in no mood to discuss the matter. Yohji looked less than pacified by this, staring incredulously at Aya.

"He _what_? And you _believed _him?"

"You think I would if I had any other choice?" the redhead asked through clenched teeth. "If he knows something – _anything_ – I'm willing to take the risk."

While Yohji seemed to be rendered speechless, Omi slunk downstairs to retrieve the emergency kit. He shut the door to the mission room where it was kept heavily behind him and took a few moments to try to stop his hands from shaking.

He didn't like Schuldig being there. He didn't like it one bit. In fact, he hated the bastard with all his being and would rather chop off both his arms than let him stay, but Aya-kun was his friend, and if _he_ was determined to keep him there, all Omi could do was keep an eye on them both and make sure things didn't get any worse than they already were.

Plastering a bright smile onto his face, Omi snatched the medical kit and hurried back upstairs.

---

It would appear that Schuldig would live.

Aya had spent almost an hour trying to carefully find and remove the bullet from, and then clean, the admittedly ugly wound, and now he was busy trying to bandage it to prevent it from bleeding more.

During the entire procedure, Schuldig had only stirred once, as Aya was probing the wound, making all of them jump, but now he was still again, and Omi and Yohji were eyeing him warily.

"So now what do we do with him?" Yohji asked, leaning against the wall, glaring angrily at the limp body. "Put him in the mission room?"

"The mission room is too cold," Aya cut in, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at them as if preparing for their protests. "We want him to get better, not die from pneumonia."

"Never thought the day would come where you would want a _Schwarz _to get better," Yohji muttered sarcastically, but he made no further indication of having noticed what Aya was really saying. There was a long, uncomfortable silence around the table; Schuldig's raspy, uneven breathing the only thing accompanying the members of Weiss as they glared at each other.

"Okay," Aya said finally, angrily. "At least help me get him up to my room. I can't carry him myself."

More silence. Omi was starting to feel really uncomfortable now, on more than one account, but it was Yohji who finally voiced his concerns, looking less than at ease himself.

"Aya… are you sure this is such a good idea? I mean… this is _Schuldig _we're talking about. _Schwarz._"

"I know who he is, Yohji," Aya replied icily, an implicit warning in his voice, but Yohji was getting himself worked up now and wouldn't stop.

"God dammit, Aya, he used to work for the frigging _Takatoris_! Even if you suddenly don't care what they did to you, at least consider what the bastard did to Omi! He got…"

"I said I _know_!"

They all winced as the redhead slammed his hands down on the table, staring heatedly at them, his cheeks flushed with anger.

"I _know_ what he did! And I'm sorry for it, Omi, I really am, but I am _not _going to stand by and let what's left of _my _family get taken from me just because yours was!"

A stunned silence followed the exclamation, and in the end, Omi backed away from them, looking slightly like someone had given him a blow to the stomach.

"I… I should close the shop," he said, voice brimming with over-cheerfulness as he turned his back on them and walked over to the door, locking it and getting a stool so he could pull down the metal shutter, yanking fiercely at it as he smiled a brittle smile.

"Smooth one, Aya," Yohji muttered softly. "So, I guess that leaves me to help you get this bastard upstairs, huh? Let's go, then."

Moving around the table, he grabbed the unconscious German under the arms, none too gently. Aya nodded briefly at him as thanks and hooked his arms under Schuldig's knees, and together they began carrying him upstairs, sweating profusely all the while.

The man wasn't heavy; in fact, he seemed far too light for one of his height, but he was tall and the angle of the stairs made it awkward, and Yohji was grateful when they finally reached Aya's room.

He was forced to hold the German as Aya pulled the bedspread down, and whenever he tried shifting into a more comfortable position, he was smothered in a tumble of red hair. Seemed Schuldig knew just how to annoy him, even in his unconscious state.

"Hey, Aya? Gorgeous Jap drowning here," he complained and blew at a lock of hair that was obviously trying to inch its way into his nose. Funny, it had a faint smell of… was it lemon? The thought made him giggle despite himself.

"Put him on the bed," Aya's deep voice ordered. "What's so funny?"

"Our big, bad, telepathic psycho here uses lemon-scented shampoo," Yohji informed him, highly amused as he dumped the limp body on Aya's bed.

"Very funny. Take his clothes off, Yohji."

"_What_?"

He looked up only to see Aya regarding him with a look that was both amused and annoyed.

"Undress him. He's hurt, Yohji. I have to make sure there's nothing else wrong with him, so put that smutty mind aside for once and help me."

"Why don't _you _do it?" Yohji asked nervously, not liking where this was going. Undressing another guy was one thing; he'd done it a few times after missions, when one or several of his friends had been injured or unconscious. But this was _Schuldig._ Yohji wasn't so sure he felt up to being quite that intimate with the guy who had let Omi's brother string him up and beat him, or…

Aya gave him a look and passed him, waving leisurely at him.

"I have to fill the tub. He needs an antiseptic bath. Knock yourself out."

---

Yohji stared at the narrow back as it vanished into the bathroom. There were sometimes he could actually swear there was a sick, ill-concealed sense of humour hidden somewhere behind those red bangs.

The thought was so disturbing that Yohji quickly decided he'd rather strip Schuldig than elaborate any further upon it.

He plucked distastefully at the remains of the sodden shirt, torn where Aya had ripped it to get access to the gun wound. Yohji sighed deeply and pulled himself together. His right hand easily plucked the small knife out of his boot took and simply cut the scraps from Schuldig's upper body. He paused for a few seconds when his hand rested over the heart, wondering how it could beat so steadily, so… normally in such a demented individual. He shook the thought aside and unzipped Schuldig's pants, trying desperately to think of something else as he slunk the pants down the long legs. A thought struck him and he called out to Aya in the bathroom.

"Aya? I don't have to take his… briefs off, do I?"

"What do you think?" Aya called back. "I am drawing him a _bath_."

_Shit!_ Yohji looked down at the not too big, rather tight, shorts. It was clear that at some point during the procedure Schuldig had wet himself. Not that Yohji could blame him, but he would much rather not be the one to have to touch the sodden fabric. In the end he decided to put the knife to work again and simply cut them open in the sides, taking hold of the front with two fingers and yanking them off in one swift go, tossing them far into a corner where it would be Aya's problem to remove them, once he found them.

"Done!" He announced happily to Aya, taking a step back to admire his work. 

_Bloody good-looking bastard under all that blood, _he had to admit to himself. The broad chest muscles were more defined, and better developed than Yohji would have given the tall redhead credit for, and the arm muscles actually made him feel a bit jealous. The face was, however, the feature that surprised him the most. 

Deeply unconscious, Schuldig actually looked rather sweet; his mouth slightly open, his eyes firmly shut and his face relaxed, almost… warm. Yohji had to shake his head to remind himself that it was his mortal enemy lying there in Aya's bed. He frowned and looked in the direction of the bathroom. Why Aya? Why did Schuldig trust Aya enough to come here?

A stab of jealousy ran through him, making him shiver a little as his mind painted vivid pictures of Aya and Schuldig in a warm embrace. Nah, he grinned to himself. Aya wasn't gay. If he was, surely he would have let it slip somehow, particularly since Yohji had had his antennae turned in that direction for a few years without picking up any signals.

"Will you need help bathing him?" He called to the silhouette he now and then spotted in the bathroom.

/tmp/uploads/1114304.doc


	5. Mastermind, Indeed

_A/N: A huge cuddle to our "old", lovely reviewers, and to our new ones (Teria McKenzie, Half-Devil and Rori Barton) for all your kind words. You guys are the best! Now, on with a rather short, but pretty funny one:_

Chapter 5

"Hold the hair!" "_You_ hold the hair!" Aya spluttered back as Schuldig started to glide down into the bathtub, miraculously still unconscious. Aya grabbed a hold of him and dragged him back into a sitting position, resuming lathering him with antiseptic soap, grumbling over his antics.

Yohji grinned at the complaint and explained to Aya, "He is unconscious, you know, I doubt he's doing it just to spite you."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Aya responded, finishing his task, grabbing the shower head, turning it on to rinse the sticky soap off the naked body, letting the water out of the tub. "Help me dry him off, will you." He threw Yohji a towel and grabbed one himself. "Be thorough, I don't want my bed wet."

"Oh, is that why you braided his hair first? He's so going to love that. Can I take a picture of him like this?" Yohji grinned.

"Yes, if you have a death wish, or is absolutely sure he'll never find out about it," Aya responded and bent to lift Schuldig out of the tub, replacing him on the bed. He stood next to Yohji looking down at the naked body splayed on the bed, pondering his fate. "I wonder what the fuck happened to him."

"He got shot."

"_Baka_. I've figured that out!" Aya spat at Yohji and elbowed him in the side. "I mean all of it… look at those bruises, and he's been, I don't know, raped or something? And why was he shot? He's damn fast, who nailed him?"

"You mean who raped him?"

"Actually, I meant shot him," Aya sighed and continued, "but I suppose whoever raped him shot him, too."

"Hmm, sounds reasonable" Yohji agreed and irreverently flomped onto the edge of the bed, jolting the German, who never the less didn't budge. "So, need me anymore? To keep watch, or tie him up or something?"

"Nah, I think I can handle him in this condition, he's lost quite a lot of blood, and I suspect he has the strength of a three weeks old kitten. I'll just sleep in here wi….

"SLEEP HERE? WITH HIM?" Yohji interrupted shooting back to his feet. "But he's… he's… Schuldig!" he finished, as if that would explain all.

Aya glared at him and with slow and controlled movements began to disrobe. "There is a reason he came here, right? And a reason he asked for me, so I'll take responsibility for him. Don't you worry. Look at him. What do you think he'd be up to in his condition? Besides, if he wanted to kill me, he'd hardly come here with a bullet in his chest."

Aya finished undressing, moving to the other side of the bed, pushing the German towards the middle and climbing in himself. "Hand me that blanket, please."

Yohji sulked but did what he was told and handed Aya the blanket, unable to resist adding a final warning. "Don't blame me if you suddenly wake up with your brain dribbling out of your years."

As he turned to leave he nearly bumped into Omi, who came in the door holding a tray with a jug of water, a few small packs of juice and a pill glass full of painkillers. "Oh, Yohji-kun. Excuse me. I thought Aya-kun might need these tonight." One look at a nodding Aya confirmed that the gesture was appreciated.

Aya paused in covering Schuldig with the blanket when he saw Omi staring at the battered body. "What the... hell happened to him?"

"Someone shot him," Yohji explained with the air of a college professor, dodging the pillow Aya threw at him.

"Yeah, Schwartz did." Omi ignored Yohji's antics. "I meant the bruises and stuff."

"How the fuck do you know that?" Yohji whirled around and stared at Omi.

Omi shrugged. "He told me."

"When?"

"When he came into the shop," he elaborated. "Shikes… wish I hadn't been quite that hard on him, didn't know he was that badly hurt. I'm afraid a few of those bruises are mine." He looked down at his feet, placing the tray on Aya's bedside table. "I'll just stay out of his hair for a day or two, I think. He is staying, isn't he?"

"It's bloody hard to stay out of his hair, "Yohji replied dryly, "It's everywhere."

"What do you mean?" Aya interrupted him and stared at Omi, looking almost protective of Schuldig.

"I'll explain when you are in the shop tomorrow" Omi scooted out the door ahead of Yohji, looking slightly alarmed, not particularly wanting to spend time with Aya in his glare-mode.

"Don't sleep too tight. I wouldn't if I were you," Yohji shot as a parting comment before closing the door on Aya, who was busy covering Schuldig with the blanket.

---

Despite Yohji's warning, Aya must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke with a start at the sound of someone whimpering in his ear. Instinctively, he turned towards the sound and slung an arm over the shivering body next to him. The whimpering seized, and in the silence of the room, it took Aya all about two seconds to fall back asleep.

The next time he woke, it was because something was tickling his nose infernally. Cracking an irritated eye open, all he could see was various shades of orange wafting before his face. He swatted it away with one hand, his irritation disappearing when he saw the sleeping German nestled against him, the sharp features relaxed in a look of contentment.

"Comfy are you, Mastermind?" he smiled, feeling oddly pleased that Schuldig was back in his bed so soon and kicking himself for it at the same time.

Schuldig mumbled something in his sleep and drew closer. 


	6. Did Someone Remember to Tell Ken?

The awareness of a presence next to him penetrated his mind even before the sound of the soft breathing reached his ears. In the grey zone between sleep and wakefulness, old instincts rather than consciousness guided his actions, preparing his body to go to work. He turned to reach out for an erection he knew would be there, but the sudden pain shooting through his shoulder abruptly tore his mind out of its dozing state and into alertness.

"Holy fuck," he moaned, scrambling to take the weight of the injured body part but freezing when he heard a cheerful giggle coming from beside him. Carefully cracking an eye open, just a fraction, he was met with a pair of rather remorseful-looking violet eyes.

"Sorry," Fujimiya whispered, seemingly not at all noticing his confusion. "I didn't mean to wake you. But you were… touching me, in your sleep. It tickled," he hastily lied, looking down at the sheets.

"Yeah. Bet it did," Schuldig agreed, not feeling up for a discussion. The pain had amounted to something truly nasty during that short conversation, but it had also brought with it the memory of why the heck he was sharing a bed with one of the flower boys in the first place. He felt sick.

"Are you… are you in pain?" Fujimiya asked him, rather inanely since Schuldig could feel the surprise at his sudden paleness radiating off the other redhead, along with the notion that he, apparently, looked horrible. Great.

"Just… just give me something to put me to sleep, okay?" Schuldig grinded out between clenched teeth, trying not to scream as he carefully turned onto his back.

"I will. Don't move," was the curt order, and the German closed his eyes again as he heard the other scramble around, a gentle arm suddenly lifting his head. A pill was placed on his tongue, and then the soothing feeling of cold water down his throat. The procedure repeated once more.

"There. The pain should get better soon. Try to get some rest now, it will do you good."

Schuldig tried to reply that what would really do him good was to not have been shot by his own team mate in the first place, not having been chucked out of the only home he'd had for his five years in Japan and not having a big fucking hole in his shoulder, but as it was, he barely had the energy to summon up a snarl.

So he simply lay there, vaguely noticing how the pillows were fluffed under his head and more blankets piled on top of him, and by the time he finally drifted off again, he was even more confused than when he had woken up.

--

"Good morning."

There was something definitely wrong with that voice, Schuldig mused. Most people wishing you a good morning usually sounded annoyingly bright and cheerful, as if mornings were something lovely and fantastic, not just something some inane git had created to prevent the night from clashing into the afternoon in more than one direction.

But this voice was definitely neither bright nor cheerful – on the contrary.

"Omi told me to bring a breakfast tray up and prepare for a nasty surprise. The little girl bait wasn't understating it, huh? Care to tell me what Schuldig is doing here? In your _bed_ no less, Fujimiya!"

The clinking sound of a tray being dumped on the bedside table made Schuldig pull a face, and he tried peeking out from the slightly excessive amount of blankets covering him to see if he could put a face to the angry voice.

He could, and blue eyes clashed angrily with his own, twinkling with something that was definitely not mirth. The person standing in front of him was clenching and unclenching his fists constantly, as if he wanted nothing more than to use them to rip Schuldig apart where he lay; even the man's jaw was trembling with barely restricted anger.

"Good morning to you, too, Siberian," Schuldig drawled before Fujimiya had had a chance to reply, stretching lazily against the pillows and trying not to care about how the movement pulled at his wound. "Been degraded to serving wench, have we?" the German went on, casting an amused look at the tray.

"YOU…" Hidaka began, but was interrupted by a hastily emerging Aya.

"Easy, Ken. He's been shot by his own. Let's patch him up before we have a go at him, huh?"

"Patch him up?" Hidaka snarled furiously, and Schuldig, despite not being a pre-cog, was starting to suspect he'd meet with the business end of a teacup any time soon. He grinned.

"Yeah, well, Fujimiya here likes his _one-night stands_ in one piece," he said slowly, fixing the brown-haired boy with half-lidded eyes. That was a good one. He was barely even using his telepathy, but he could still feel the shock course right through the other's body, replaced by repulsion and then, finally, anger.

"His _what_?" Hidaka asked in a clipped, controlled voice, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at Fujimiya, who in turn was staring at him with cold eyes.

"That's none of your business, Ken. Schuldig came here asking for my help, and I am giving it to him. If you have a problem with that, please have it elsewhere. It was nice of you to bring the breakfast, but…"

Nothing more was said, but the implication hung heavy in the air. Hidaka didn't even bother trying to splutter a reply at any of them, but his eyes conveyed the sense of the utter betrayal he felt as he turned around and stomped out of the room, the door closing silently behind him.

"Well, well," Schuldig commented airily and leaned back against the pillows. "Seems that soccer boy dislikes your choice of lovers, Fuji..."

"Shut up," was the rather surprising cut-off, and Schuldig turned to look at his bed partner, who glared viciously at him. "Look, I know he wasn't exactly welcoming you into his home with open arms, but what the hell had you expected?"

Schuldig opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short again.

"I don't care if he likes you or not, but you're making life a hell of a lot more difficult for all of us – and yourself – by deliberately provoking him, okay?"

"Fine," Schuldig said with a frown. "I promise to be all sunshine and roses next time he comes up, okay? Happy?"

"No," Fujimiya stated, using one hand to easily press the German's uninjured shoulder into the mattress, pinning him down. "One more word to anyone that we have slept together, and I will shoot you myself."

Schuldig lay silent for a while, frowning up at him, but in the end he just shrugged – or rather tried to, with one injured shoulder and the other pinned to the bed.

"Fine," he said noncommittally and looked away. He must be worse off than he thought if he wasn't even up for a verbal sparring with the katana boy, but then, he _had_ been outside a long time the previous day, and probably left a gallon or two of blood in that bloody alley. No wonder he wasn't up to par.

"So," he said as the other redhead finally let go of his grip on him and sat up, making himself comfortable as he reached for the tray. "I can hear your little mind buzzing, so why not just ask me?"

Fujimiya gave him a quizzical look and held out a piece of toast for him, but he shook his head. He knew he probably should eat something, but the pain in his shoulder was strong enough to make him feel slightly queasy, and he was starting to feel cold, too.

"I know you're dying to ask me why I came here, but since you're obviously not going to ask me, I'll have to tell you, won't I?" he elaborated. The Japanese man nodded, so Schuldig went on, bracing himself for an eruption.

"You know I know where your sister is," he ventured carefully, watching Fujimiya's jaw clench around the toast, glowing violet eyes fixing him. The man looked sick suddenly.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Bad, bad Schuldig who took her away from you. But guess what, I have my orders, too. I don't always like them, but I have to carry them out none the less. But that's not the point."

Fujimiya had always been pale, but by now, he was starting to look positively blue, and Schuldig realised he should get to the point if he wanted to survive this conversation.

"What I came here for," he went on, "is because I'm willing to show you where she is – and help you get her back –"

That was as far as he got before the other man slammed into him, pale fingers digging painfully into his arms.

"Where?" Fujimiya snarled and shook him, ignoring the gasp of pain the movement elicited. "Where? Tell me where she is _now_, Schuldig, or I swear to God, if you're playing me…"

"Let go of my arms first, you nitwit, and I'll tell you!" Schuldig shouted back at him. The harsh grip was making the ache in his shoulder even worse, and if Fujimiya didn't let go soon, he'd have to wait until Schuldig had regained consciousness before getting his answer.

He wasn't sure that the Japanese man would take his word for it, but the fingers actually loosened their grip somewhat, and Schuldig took a deep breath of relief. The glowing eyes, however, remained fixed on him.

"I'll show you where she is and I'll help you get her out," Schuldig repeated, "but you have to give me some time. I know she's safe as houses where she is, but we can't just go trampling in there to retrieve her. The place has top security, and even without that, she is guarded by some pretty heavy PSIs."

"Where. Is. She?" Fujimiya grinded out, his face dangerously close to Schuldig's own now.

"I can't tell you," Schuldig said firmly. "If I do, you'll go barging in there, and we'll all be dead before we know what the fuck hit us – your precious sister included. You don't want that, do you?"

Fujimiya shook his head dumbly, and Schuldig nodded. "Good. I know it's a stretch and all, but you have to trust me on this one. I know these people, and listening to me is the only chance you have, if any at all."

"Why?" the other redhead said thickly, his voice laden with emotions he was unable to keep hidden. He was really rather pretty when not pissed off or icy cold, Schuldig mused. Too bad he was _always _pissed off or icy cold. "Why? What's in it for you? And how do I know you're not just setting me up, like Schreient did? There's no saying you won't lead me right into the arms of Schwarz."

Schuldig frowned at him. "Fujimiya, look at me. Farfarello just tried to put a bullet through my chest, and it was Crawford who ordered him to. Schwarz, or Estzet for that matter, aren't exactly on my Christmas card list right now. Trust me, I want those bastards down as much as you do. And getting your sister back for you will probably shake them up a little, so I'm all for it. I'm only asking for one thing in return."

Fujimiya's jaw clenched, and Schuldig could hear a faint whisper of _I knew it _echoing through his mind. "And what is that?" he asked with forced self-composure.

"That you keep me here. I was supposed to get killed yesterday, and now that they know I wasn't, people will be looking for me. I'm not sure if it's just Schwarz or if they have informed Estzet, but either way, I'm in deep shit. I have no where else to go, and this is probably the last place they would think to look for me. Besides," he said, looking at Fujimiya, "it's all in your best interest to keep me alive. What do you say?"

"Bastard. You know I'll do anything to get Aya back," Fujimiya gritted out through clenched teeth. "But I'm telling you this, Schuldig – good sex or no, if you set me up on this one, I swear I'll…"

"Point taken," Schuldig interrupted, holding up a hand to put an end to the conversation, feeling a little irritated that the rather cosy feeling the morning had brought was completely gone now. Not only that, but he was beginning to feel decidedly tired, and cold, and dizzy, and… Oh fuck, no, not that.

"Fujimiya," he grunted urgently, "I think I'm going to be sick." 

----

"I don't like this," Omi said wearily as he restlessly paced back and forth in the closed flower shop. He had been doing so, with only short breaks, most of the night and morning. "I don't like him being here. I don't like _him_."

"Hell, no one does," Yohji reassured him quietly from where he sat perched on the working table, arms wrapped around his drawn-up knees. "But if he can be useful to Aya in any way, I guess…"

Omi spun around to stare at him with wide eyes, and for a second, he looked even younger and more vulnerable than he usually did, giving Yohji a sense of exactly how much the German's presence riled him. Yohji knew that Omi was terrified of Schuldig, not because he was a killer but because of his abilities to always hit where it hurt the most. And Omi, Yohji knew, was a person who hurt more than most others.

"You really think so?" Omi asked in a small voice. "You really think he came here with good intentions?"

Yohji shrugged and slid off the table, walking up to the younger assassin and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know," he admitted. "He probably mainly came here to survive, you know... instincts. But Aya trusts him, right? So why don't you let Aya worry about him for a while? Listen, you should get ready for school. Perhaps seeing some normal people for a change will make you feel a bit better."

Omi offered a pale smile and briefly touched Yohji's huge hand, seeming even bigger on his thin shoulder. "Maybe you're right," he said quietly. "Just… keep an eye on Aya, will you?" he added, a pleading look in his eyes, and Yohji nodded. He knew that Omi cared deeply for his teammates; they were the family he had never really had, and more often than not the kid spent too much time worrying about things happening to them, things he should really have been too young to know about.

"I will," Yohji promised, and then he grinned. "Don't worry, Kudoh's on the case." He mock-saluted, and Omi snorted, looking a little less unhappy than before.

"Yeah, _that_ really helps," he said sarcastically, but he still managed a smile as he disentangled himself from Yohji's grip and headed towards the door leading up to the flats. "I'll just get my stuff. Thanks, Yohji-kun." He stopped and gave Yohji a warm look before disappearing upstairs, and the blond sighed and looked down at his feet.

"You're welcome, kid," he mumbled softly to himself as he turned the sign on the door to 'open', clicking the lock, mentally preparing for the day ahead. "I'm only hoping I'm doing the right thing here."

/tmp/uploads/1114304.doc


	7. How d'you Solve a Problem Like Schuldig?

It was well into the evening as they had their meeting. The shop was long closed, and no lights were burning in any of the windows in the small apartment complex. The basement was a little brighter, but not much. You could be seen in light, and right now, the members of Weiss didn't want to be seen by anyone, let alone look at each other. For a long time after they had sat down, none of them spoke. When the silence was finally broken, it was with a rather quiet:

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Weary green eyes fixed on Aya, who sat at the end of the table, looking decidedly tense, arms crossed over his chest in defence before the meeting had even begun.

"He _wasn't_ thinking, was he?" Ken almost snarled, his angry glare following Yohji's. Omi quickly put a hand up in an attempt to intervene.

"I'm not too keen on this either," he said with admirable constraint, "but let's at least hear Aya-kun out. Give him a chance."

"Thanks a lot," Aya said in a voice that made it impossible to tell whether he was being sarcastic or grateful, but he did raise his head to look at the others.

"Please tell me you were at least blind drunk when you slept with him," Ken sighed.

The sound of a chair hitting the floor came almost simultaneously with the semi-human gurgle from Yohji's mouth.

"You… sssch… are you…? Aya, you…!"

"Oh, shut_ up_, guys, and _listen_! This isn't about whether I slept with Schuldig or not, this is about Aya-chan, and you _will_ sit down and listen until I am done talking!"

Aya exploded out of his chair, slamming his palms onto the table as he fixed the others with a glaring purple look, daring them to comment further on the matter. Scattered murmurs were heard, and the faces of his team mates were taking on various shades of red, green or white as Yohji slowly picked his chair back up from the floor and sat down on it with jerky, forced movements.

"Okay," he said slowly, staring at the wall behind Aya. "We'll hear you out. But we don't have to like it."

"I don't like it either, if that's what you think," the redhead offered in a softer voice, and then cleared his throat.

"Okay… this is the deal. Schuldig knows where they're keeping my sister. He has offered to help me get her back, if – and this is where I need you guys to help me – if we keep him alive. Apparently, he has gotten into some sort of trouble with his team, and now Estzet is after him, too. He's guessing they won't look for him here, so what we need to do is keep him alive until he can lead us to Aya, and then…"

"Yeah, exactly," Yohji interrupted. "And then what? What the hell do we do? I mean, if these guys have Aya, and we just snatch her away from them, they're gonna come after us, aren't they?"

"So you're suggesting we just leave her there?" Aya snapped at him, making him raise his hands in defence.

"No, you ill-tempered, toothpick-wielding idiot! I'm just saying we need to figure out what the hell we do next. We can't exactly stay in the flower shop, now can we?"

"We can't even stay in the country, can we?" Omi added softly and looked directly at Aya, who slowly shook his head.

"No. If we take Aya back from Estzet, we all have to leave. It will be the end of Weiss," he admitted, not meeting their eyes.

Another long silence settled around the table, broken only by the vague murmuring of the ventilation system and the static noise of the computer in the background. Yohji looked at his team mates for a while, before grabbing the pack of cigarettes lying on the table in front of him, hauling one long cylinder up and lighting it, taking a long drag before leaning in across the table and looking at them again.

"Well, I'm all for it," he said, surprising Aya. "I mean, what the hell have we got to keep us here anyway?"

"Just like that? We'd just end Weiss, just like that?" Ken interjected, staring at them. "Is that really what you guys want? Omi?"

"I didn't say we had to split up," Aya protested, "just… just that_ Weiss_ has got to end. If we get out of this alive, we can go wherever we like. I have some ideas, personally, about what to do, and… and if you'd like to come with me, I'd… I think I'd like that."

Ken looked at him, obviously stunned by his words. He had always known that he and Omi, and possibly Yohji, thought of Weiss as more than a group of killers, but there had so far been no indication that Aya thought of them as more than simply a means to achieve his goals. The redhead's confession shook him, but in a way, it also made him strangely happy.

"So… if we manage to extract Aya and get the hell out of here, what do we do with Schuldig?"

The question was asked in the same soft voice Omi used for everything else, but it still made Ken turn to glare at him as it shattered the good mood he had been seconds from acquiring.

"Leave him," he spat. "God knows he's fucked things up enough around here."

"But if we do that, they'll come for him!" Omi protested. "If he helps us, that means he'll be betraying his team and Estzet, right? And then they'll…"

"So what?" Ken shot back. "Why should we care about what they do to him? He's caused us more harm than all the others together! Why the hell should we care? He has no place here, Omi. He's Schwarz. We're Weiss."

"Exactly," was the soft reply, and Omi looked at him with intense blue eyes. "Don't get me wrong, Ken-kun. I hate having him here, you know that. But if we leave him to face the organisation he has just betrayed, what would that make us? Just think about what Kritiker would do if they suspected disloyalty from us. Do you think Estzet would go gentle on Schuldig? And if we just hand him over to them…"

"…we're just as bad as them," Ken finished miserably, sighing. "You're right, of course. Damn you, Omi. When did you become so bloody righteous?"

"I was dropped on my head as a baby," Omi said with a soft smile.

"Schuldig goes with us," Aya managed at last, looking strangely relieved. "I promised we'd get him out of the country, to make sure they can't find him. What he does after that is none of our business, really. Do you think you can live with that?"

"I can't believe you're asking," Yohji shot in, putting his big boots up on the table with a 'clunk'. "If we can actually contribute to something that will give you facial expressions – like making you smile – I'd say it's worth the annoyance. Variation is the spice of life, you know."

Yohji had half expected Aya to bite his head off for that remark, but instead, the pale man just offered him a half shy, half grateful smile and mumbled a quiet 'thanks'.

"So… how do we go about this?" Ken asked reluctantly after a while. It seemed to him that the mood was becoming far too cosy, now that they had so many life-altering decisions to make. Aya's eyes fell a little at the question, and he clasped his hands and shook his head.

"I don't know yet. Schuldig is the one who knows how to get access to the place, and he has been out for most of the day…"

"Good," Ken intervened.

"…but what I do know is this," Aya went on, ignoring him. "The people who have Aya-chan are planning to use her… her body… at this ritual, and…"

Yohji quickly took his feet back down and put a hand on Aya's shoulder, since the other man had begun looking positively sick.

"They_ plan_ to. We won't let them," he whispered, for Aya's ears only. That seemed to give the redhead enough strength to at least continue speaking, even if his voice constantly faltered as he did so.

"Meanwhile, since she has to be well and alive during the… during… the thing, they will do everything they can to make sure she's healthy, so… according to Schuldig, she is in no danger. He actually thought she was better off with them than at the Magic Bus."

"Well, obviously," Yohji snorted.

"Shut up, Kudoh. So… these people are some sort of fanatics, like a cult, and they believe that this… ritual has to be carried out when certain stars are aligned or something. Apparently, this won't happen until in another three months. That'll give us all the time we need to get maps of the place and plan how we go about it. And, it will give Schuldig some time to piece himself back together. Like it or not, Ken, we need his wits for this, so do please try to keep him in one piece."

"Hell yeah. I wouldn't dream of scattering that filth anywhere," Ken cheerfully agreed, making Omi and Yohji smile.

"But Aya…" Omi said quietly, "how do we know we can trust him? We've been down this lane before, and that time, Schreient almost got the better of us, and they're not even in Schuldig's league. What is it that makes you think he would…"

"I don't know, Omi," Aya admitted wearily, surprising his younger team mate with such a confession of insecurity. Aya must really be desperate to save his sister if he was willing to admit he was groping in the dark; he had always been far too proud to show any weakness before.

"All I know is that Brad Crawford had ordered Farfarello to shoot him, and that he did – or rather, tried to. I've asked Schuldig, but he doesn't have a clue to what is going on. All I know is that he is bound and determined to get back at both Schwarz and Estzet."

"And… you trust that?" Yohji asked. Aya nodded.

"Yes. In that, at least, I trust him. Don't ask me why, but I do. And I hope that even if you don't trust him, you will trust me. Do you?"

He looked around the table, scrutinizing the faces of his team mates. It had been a rather big favour he had asked of them; to help him save his sister and then leave the country they had all grown up in. But then again, they wouldn't have had much time left in Japan even without this new and unexpected problem. Estzet had been at their heels for some time now, and they had known it was only a matter of time before it all came to an end. Perhaps asking them to leave hadn't been such a big deal, after all.

One after another, the other three men nodded slowly. Aya might be many things when it came to his sister; reckless and uncaring about who or what got in his way, but he had never been a liar, and his intuitions were usually always right. If he thought that that bastard German up in his bed could help them, then he probably could.

"Yeah," Ken said finally, grinning at Aya. "I'll trust you. But if that asshole you've been fooling around with so much as breathes at me, I'm going to turn him upside down and wipe the concrete floor with him, got it?"

"Aye, captain," Aya mumbled with something akin to humour in his voice. 

--

The meeting was ended rather shortly after that; it was late, and they were all tired from the, for them, uncharacteristically long talk they'd had. As they slowly filed out of the mission room, each one of them busy with his own thoughts and doubts, Aya walked past Yohji, and the blond reached out and grabbed him by the arm.

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly, so the others wouldn't hear. Aya nodded and tugged at his arm, indicating he should follow.

"Is this such a good idea?" Yohji wondered as they climbed the stairs to Aya's room, but the redhead simply shrugged.

"It shouldn't be a problem. He's been out almost all day, and I've given him enough painkillers to knock out a horse. With any luck, he won't wake up until next week."

Yohji grinned at Aya as he slid the door to the small apartment open and turned on the lamp by the bed. Curious, he padded over to the bed and cautiously prodded the heap of blankets, pulling them down slightly.

"Don't," Aya protested.

"I'm just looking. Making sure he's asleep."

Schuldig was more than asleep; he seemed as unconscious as when they had first carried him up to Aya's room. The German was rolled up on his uninjured side, facing Yohji. His hair was a matted mess, most of it either sticking to his face or standing straight up in all angles.

Yohji sighed and moved Schuldig's hand aside, leaving room for him to sit on the edge of the bed. Aya pulled over a foot stool and sat down in front of him, giving Yohji his full attention.

"Aya…" Yohji began hesitantly, "what is going on? I mean… you and him… in bed? Like you know, sex… and all that? How the fu…, honestly?"

"Eloquent as always in explaining your case, I see," Aya commented dryly. "Not really your business, I guess."

"You mean he's your freaking lover?" Yohji's voice rose just a tad.

"Hell no. Just got drunk, stoned and lonely in a lethal combination that he happened to stumble into. I'm not even gay!" Aya declared and stood, trying to elongate himself a further two inches.

"You're not gay, so you chose him? Sure, that makes sense," Yohji said, a hint of bitterness crawling into his voice. "I assume it wasn't any good then?"

The answer to that question was apparent in the fierce blush that instantly covered Aya's skin from ear to ear, with a detour to his brow. Yohji laughed and gestured at the stool, keeping silent till Aya had re-seated himself.

"Ok, ok. I won't mention the sex-part again. Just tell me why you really trust him," Yohji asked quietly, his eyes fixed at a point between Aya's feet.

"I… I don't know. I know he said something to me that night when we… when we were so drunk, but I just can't remember…"

Aya flushed bright red again and looked away, making Yohji grin despite himself.

"All I know is that for that one moment, when he said that to me… I had a feeling that he was a hundred per cent honest with me. He was too drunk to lie."

"You're hoping he can wake her up, aren't you?" Yohji asked quietly.

"I'm not just hoping. I'm sure. If anyone can do it, he can. If he can't, then she's… then she's gone for real. But I know in my heart that he can do it," Aya stated passionately, making Yohji look up at him.

"All right. If you are so sure, and if _he_ doesn't do anything to prove you wrong, I'll trust him too. Just an inch or two further than I can throw him. No, hehe… I will trust him. I promise I'll at least try."

Yohji stood and placed an arm around the still sitting Aya. "I guess this is the big one, huh? Make or break. Who would have thought that _he_ would be the one to bring this around? You better take care of him then, our future depends on him now. Sleep… tight."

And without looking back Yohji quickly left the room, closing the door quietly behind himself, just exactly managing to keep the tears back till he heard the little click from the lock.

/tmp/uploads/1114304.doc


	8. RIP, Schuldig!

_A/N: A few short words of thank you to all our reviewers… you truly are an astonishing bunch! Apart from dousing us in praise, you also give us valuable tips and examples and do everything you can to be helpful. If every writer had reviewers like you, no one would ever be scared of publishing their works. A huge hug to all of you!_

Now, please beware… Crawford, and, to a certain extent, Schuldig, will be behaving a little oddly in this chapter. They both have their reasons, though; as they are rather both pushed beyond what they can handle, so please do give them a break. Apart from that… plea_se enjoy! ;)_

Crawford frowned and complained out loud, "Nagi. You haven't done the dishes. Dinner means shopping, cooking and cleaning. Remember? Do the di... Ouch! ...with your HANDS!"

"Hey, don't yell at the kid for being smart," Schuldig commented from the couch where he was sprawling, being visibly useless for the sheer pleasure of annoying Crawford. "Besides, he's a tween, you know? Gotta do homework and stuff. Cut him some slack."

"School is only a front for him, and you know it," Crawford turned and snarled at Schuldig. "And don't you have something to do?"

"Whatever, he still needs it," Schuldig snarled back, sitting up and casting a half-annoyed glare at his team leader. "And yes, actually, I do."

Get up to your room, Nags, I'll cook. You'll have to put up with burned spaghetti tonight, but at least you can finish that history paper, Schuldig told him mentally.

Nagi quickly countered in the same manner. I haven't burned the spaghetti. Unlike you I _can_ cook, and these dishes will only take me five minutes if you'll distract him, or at least not annoy him. Caesar can wait that long.****

"So? Are you going anytime soon?" Crawford nodded at the tray, covered with a tea towel. "You know his level of hysteria today, you'll probably have to spoon feed him. If I were you I wouldn't untie him." 

"Yeah yeah. What's the bloody hurry? It's not like he's ever actually hungry," Schuldig sulked and grabbed the tray. "How come Farfie maintenance is always on my bloody 'to do' list, anyway?"

"You know he likes to eat. It's the only time he's allowed to play with knives. Now get it over with, I want you to go out and buy me some beer when you're done. Hey, kid! That's actually glass and not plastic. Gentle! Replacements come out of _your_ allowance."

"WOULD you leave him the hell alone?" Schuldig growled and whirled around, slamming the tray back down on the table. "The kid hardly ever makes any bloody noise, he always does what you tell him to and he barely has time to do his homework. What the fuck do you want of him, that he turns himself into wallpaper? Back_ off_, you whining fuck!"

An ominous silence filled the room as Crawford turned slowly to face Schuldig, his face expressionless save for the cold eyes.

"I'm done with the dishes. Shall I go get you the beers?" Nagi said way too cheerfully, only to be completely ignored by Crawford.

Schuldig knew he was in deep shit now. His only chance of a way out of this was to make himself scarce, and quickly.

"That'd be great, Nags," he mumbled and picked the tray back up. "Go to the shop on the corner, there's usually no one there at this time. Perhaps you'll have some time for that nutty Roman after all, then." He rapidly disappeared down the hallway, balancing the tray on one hand as he struggled with the padlocks on the door of Farfarello's room.

Crawford didn't move. His eyes glazed over as they always did when he was suffering a vision, and this one was one of the worst kind. A wave of surety of failure, despair, betrayal and death washed over him, and Schuldig's face hovered in the midst of it. He knew this vision would not be easily read, and he already felt the headache coming. Annoyed and a fair bit shattered he left the kitchen and locked himself in his office, getting out the painkillers and the whisky, sitting down and waiting for the vision to solidify in his mind.

---

Schuldig sighed. Not only was Farfarello hungry, but he was also in an unusually good mood, which always made him chatty, meaning that dinner would take forever. Not that he minded, in a way; he'd rather sit inside the white, well-padded room than getting back out there to deal with what was surely a livid Crawford by now.

But there were also other things he felt more like doing, so he told Farfarello to shut up in a half-gruff voice and slid the paper plate off the tray. Utensils, glass, everything was made out of plastic, that soft kind you couldn't cut yourself with, and he placed it all neatly on the floor in front of his team mate before getting up.

"Talk to yourself, pal. I've got business out in the real world," Schuldig announced and grinned as he shut the door behind himself, strolling into the living area. "Hey, where did everybody go?"

"I'm back." A short breathed Nagi almost threw himself through the front door, relieved when blood wasn't the first sight that met him. Only a confused looking Schuldig was there, and Crawford was gone.

"Oh... where is he? Have you... he... are you ok?"

"Just fine, kid." Schuldig reassured him and grinned, ruffling his hair in the way he knew Nagi hated. "Gimme that, I'll put it away. Hurry up now, before His Majesty decides he wants something else. Farf has been fed, so don't worry about it."

"Cool...I'll run then. Call if he... if you... just call, ok?" Nagi turned and floated up stairs, the book already coming down to meet him.

---

_'Schuldig betraying them. And soon_.' Crawford could not believe his own mind, yet he knew how reliable his visions where. There was no doubt. Schuldig would turn on his team, at least on Crawford, and betray them to Kritiker. Or worse. But why? And when? And more importantly, how could he be stopped? Deep down Crawford knew there was only one way to stop Schuldig if his mind was made up, but he had to make absolutely sure first. He'd take the German to his bed this night and get him talking. He sighed and grabbed the whiskey, heading back to the kitchen. 

--- 

"Lazy-ass!" Schuldig called cheerfully after the kid, grinning as he walked over to the kitchen table and snatched the newspaper Crawford had left there earlier. Footsteps alerted him to the presence of someone else almost before Crawford's mind did - that man could be incredibly silent when he wanted to. The only problem was that Schuldig knew this usually meant he was in trouble of some sort.

"Headache?" he asked as he spotted the American's drawn face, trying to put on a sympathetic look.

"Mmh, mmh." Crawford nodded and sat at the kitchen table, pouring two glasses of whiskey, handing Schuldig one, explaining this with a curt "I don't like to drink alone."

"I didn't think you liked drinking at all," Schuldig noted with some surprise and draped himself across a chair, turning the glass in one hand. "Farf has been fed, by the way."

"Whisky helps the headache, and I don't give a shit about Fartfellow, so shut up about him. Whisky and sex helps. I want you in my bed tonight. Go check we have lube... and bring that black whip from Farfarello's room. If I feel better I may want to play." He downed his drink and refilled it, topping Schuldig's off too.

"Eh, you know, not to be a pain and all, but I kinda do like my skin," Schuldig tried to half-joke, not liking where this conversation was heading at all. He had no idea what he'd done this time, unless it was still about trying to get Nagi off housework, but Crawford was acting weird and it rather spooked him.

"So?" Crawford looked at him, shrugging. "I told you what to do, didn't I? Why are you arguing?"

"You've obviously never been flogged," Schuldig replied tartly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat while grinning at the same time.

"Evidently not," Crawford said, annoyed that he had to state the obvious. "And you're procrastinating. Come on." He stood, placing his glass on the table. As he started to walk to his upstairs bedroom he began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Don't keep me waiting. You know I don't like that."

"Yessir," Schuldig muttered between clenched teeth. There was no way out of this, and he knew it. Grabbing a firm mental hold on the dread that had begun to rise inside, he went back into Farfarello's room and got the desired implement, ignoring the comments and interested looks the Irishman gave him. He headed up to his own room, knowing from old habit that Crawford would rather leave a mess in there than on his own crispy white sheets.

---

Crawford stepped into his shower, letting the tepid water clear his mind. _'I need to know. I need to know how loyal he is, and if there is any doubt... I need to know. Keep a clear mind tonight, Brad, and read him if you can. I need to know._'

He towelled off and put on a robe, heading down the hall to Schuldig's messy room. It almost put him off sex to see the crumpled sheets - but then again, the kind of sex they were having sort of fit the room. "You're still dressed. Why?" he asked in surprise when he entered.

"Sorry. Was thinking," Schuldig said and shrugged out of his shirt, peering up at Crawford from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed. "Besides, I didn't know if you wanted to... undress me yourself," he added and wriggled a little.

"No, just get into bed." Crawford shrugged out of his housecoat and lay back on the bed, propping a pillow behind his head. He spread his legs a bit and made himself comfortable. "Lick me Schuldig, make me hard. My nipples first, then my cock," he ordered as if he was picking from a lunch menu.

"Sure," Schuldig muttered and stood to pull his jeans off, kicking them away from the bed as they fell. Crawling onto the bed, he hovered on all fours over the prone body, his mind having switched onto autopilot even before he touched it.

"Mmmh..." Crawford closed his eyes when Schuldig's clever tongue began to work on his chest, almost instantly sending small shivers down to his cock. The German had a damn clever tongue. So good that Crawford almost didn't want to kill him. "Yeah, good. Your hand... my cock," he ordered, a little short of breath.

Schuldig said nothing, but he curled his fingers around the already hard shaft and began stroking it, keeping his grip relatively firm as he knew Crawford hated being teased. "Like that?" he asked quietly, not looking up.

"Nnnnh," Crawford confirmed, taking a firm hold of Schuldig's head, moving him to the other nipple. He arched his chest into the moist heat, but quickly got tired of it and pressed Schuldig's head further down, spreading his legs a bit further in anticipation.

_'Fucking terrorist,'_ Schuldig thought sourly to himself but obediently slid his lips over the throbbing shaft, trying to loosen the grip in his hair by moving his head enthusiastically over the slick skin

Crawford kept his hold, as much to keep Schuldig in place as to keep himself from giving in to the pleasure too quickly. He needed to take Schuldig. Hard. It was the only time the German's vigilance was down long enough for him to read him fully. He knew Schuldig both hated this and craved it, sex being an addiction that he couldn't kick. "Too good. Stop," he mumbled and pulled Schuldig's head off him. "On your back, I want to see you when I fuck you. Where's the lube?

"Under the pillow," Schuldig said over his shoulder as he scrambled to get into the right position; prone on his back, arms and legs spread in a display of want he didn't really feel. "I thought you didn't like using it."

"I feel like it today." Crawford answered and lubed up his already slick cock, rubbing off the remains at Schuldig's puckered hole, letting his fingers play a bit with it, enjoying the power it gave him over the redhead.

"Nnnh..." Schuldig moaned and wriggled, the light stimulation just enough to be _not_ enough at the same time as being horribly arousing. He spread his legs pointedly, hoping the message would be understood.

"You little slut. You want me, don't you? Tell me you want me." Crawford smiled a little crooked smile as he let two fingers slip into the warm passage while his other hand stroked the hardening shaft, waiting for the response with malicious glee.

"Yes... take me... please." Schuldig added the last word on instinct, knowing it was expected. The fingers inside were making him shiver, but then, he also knew that worse things were waiting once this was over, so he really wasn't in a hurry.

Crawford was beginning to enjoy himself, so he grabbed the whip lying by the bed and turned it around, pushing the handle into Schuldig, laughing as he saw the squirming. Next to fucking the German his favourite occupation was watching him being fucked. His responses were so... satisfying for someone with Crawford's appetites.

A low moan of surprise forced itself past the German's lips as something large and hard and _wrong_ pushed into him, tearing his already tender insides as it went. His body clenched down on it in defence, trying to force it back out, and Schuldig wriggled, needing to escape this new source of pain. "What...?" he asked in pain-dazed confusion, trying to get a clear view of Crawford.

"You don't even recognise this, slut? I guess not. You prefer my cock, don't you? Beg for it, and you can have it instead," he sneered.

"P-please...," was the whispered reply, but a plea for what, Schuldig had no intentions to tell Crawford. The handle was fucking hurting him, and he was fighting a losing fight to stay still. "I-I…," he stammered, fisting the sheets urgently in his hands.

"Beg! Tell me what you want." Crawford roared, feeling how Schuldig's defences were breaking, and shortly... oh so shortly when he entered him, he would be able to confirm or deny his worst fears about his 'team mate'. 

"I want... you..." Schuldig whimpered, and it was true. He preferred Crawford inside him; at least he wasn't as raspy and... hard as the thing currently tearing him apart. "Take... me..."

"Of course, 'my love'." Crawford grinned and pulled the whip out, almost instantly regretting it as it had looked fucking hot going in and out of the tight hole, but then again, he was rather hard now and needed relief. He opened his mind as much as he dared as he pushed in, moaning all the way to distract Schuldig.

Schuldig had to use a pillow to muffle a low grunt of pain as he was being penetrated again, seeing as how Crawford hadn't exactly been gentle as he pulled the whip out. Trying to keep still, he focused his mind on other things, such as the warm body on top of his, the way the American's pleasure seemed to swallow him up as well like a huge tide, the small little moans that escaped him whenever he moved inside, and it wasn't long until the pain had momentarily faded and he could rest a little, excitement starting to build instead.

"Yeah. Right... like that. Don't move. Don't..." Crawford was beginning to really enjoy himself and had to focus hard on reading Schuldig's vibes rather than just loosing himself as usual. He snaked a hand between them and began yanking at Schuldig's cock, pulling shreds of his concentration off with each stroke. He didn't like what he saw. There were dark zones around the German that confirmed his suspicion of betrayal, and nothing to counter it. He sped up his movements, angered even more by what he had found.

"Gnnhgg... w-what...?" Schuldig asked in confusion, unsure if he had done or said anything to further agitate Crawford. The hand on him was getting less and less careful, but it still had the desired effect - he stayed hard, hopefully making that one less reason for the older man to be angry with him.

"Shu...uut...up!" Crawford demanded as he let go of his restraint, having found his answer. If only he knew the why and the when, but he might yet get to find that out. If he dared to wait that long. He was tempted to kill Schuldig right there and then, but then again, he wasn't a necrophiliac.

About to apologise, the redhead managed to cut himself short the very last second and opted to put his energy on simply staying silent, not wanting to give Crawford the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting him. But of course he knew. Anyone could figure out how much being treated like this would hurt, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that Crawford didn't care.

"Come..." It was an order, not a request or a loving wish as Crawford stroked Schuldig hard and fast. He only wanted Schuldig to come so that his own orgasm would be so much better as the redhead would cramp up around him; he loved it when that happened. He tried to hold back his moans, but a few escaped as he neared his climax, the pale body beneath him yielding completely to his demands.

"C-c..." Schuldig tried, but he couldn't manage much else. He knew he'd be in even more trouble if he didn't obey, but for some reason, he just couldn't.

"Fuck... that...!" Crawford allowed and let himself come never the less, biting down on the pale skin in retribution while he hammered into the tight hole, emptying himself completely. The bite might have hurt, but since everything else already did, it went pretty much unnoticed by Schuldig, who turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, wishing Crawford would get off him and let him lick his wounds in silence.

"Are you... are you disgusted... by me?" Crawford panted and slapped the face beneath him, livid that Schuldig would turn away from him. "Are you?" He emphasized it with another hard slap, a bit mollified when he realised this one would leave a black eye.

"No," Schuldig gasped, turning his eyes back to the American again, fighting to keep them open. "You know... I'm not. I'm just... tired."

"Like hell you are... you're still hard. I want to see you come." With a wicked smile Crawford rolled off Schuldig's body and flicked a finger hard at the tip of the swollen cock head. "Jerk off while I'm watching," he grinned.

Biting back a gasp, Schuldig did as he was told and grasped himself with firm fingers, stroking the hard flesh with slow movements as he tried to think of something, anything that would make him come. Crawford was of no use now; he was all spent, and it wasn't like anyone else in the house could help him, either.

Perhaps he could think of something... His eyes flew open again as he suddenly got a flash of red is his mind, not bright like his, but more crimson perhaps, and pale, pale skin... Hell, why not be creative and add some burning violet to the mix, it made an interesting blend...

Schuldig cried out as he came suddenly, unexpectedly, his body arching off the bed as he spilled himself.

"Wouldn't I like to know what you were thinking of just now," Crawford remarked and got out of the bed. "Clean yourself up and then go clean out Farfarello's room. Tell him to get some sleep. I want to talk to him in the morning, and I want him to be as sane as possible for that."

With that he put on his housecoat and left, slamming the door behind him. He had the oddest feeling that he'd just experienced part of the betrayal firsthand, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It didn't matter. Schuldig would have to go anyway or he could be in trouble with Estzet. And he was never in trouble with them. No one was. Not for long, at least.

It took Schuldig the longest time to even be able to move, but he didn't really care as he had things on his mind. Curling up on the soiled sheets with a pained grimace, he tried to turn into his own mind to see what the hell had just happened, but it made him none the wiser. Shaking his head, he slowly sat up, noticing with a wince that he had been bleeding on the sheets. 

---

The next morning Crawford dressed impeccably. He thought it was the least he could do for the execution. He joined the others for breakfast, nodding curtly at all three of them, pleased to notice that Farfarello was behaving himself, eating his yoghurt quietly with his plastic spoon instead of making his usual lunge for the kitchen drawers to get a knife.

"Good morning all. Nagi, I'll have coffee and toast, no yoghurt. Farfarello, I want to see you in my office directly after breakfast and Schuldig... I don't want to see you at all. Go clean up Farfarello's room. Now."

"I did that yesterday," Schuldig muttered in response, trying to use his hair to hide the bruise forming on his face. "Don't look if you don't want to see me."

The blow fell so hard that Schuldig landed in the corridor and Crawford winced as he realised he might have broken a finger or two. "DID I ASK YOU?" he hollered, so infuriated that the vein in his temple was throbbing. He hated traitors, and if it hadn't been for Nagi he would have offed Schuldig right there and then with his bare hands.

"Fuck, you sick twat! Any chance you could have hit me somewhere you hadn't tried already?" Schuldig hollered at him as he dragged himself to his feet, using the door and cradling his hurting face in one hand.

"Like here?" Crawford suggested and kicked Schuldig in the ribs, followed by a hit on the left ear. "Or here?" He let the blows and kicks rain down on the skinny body, accompanied by giggles from Farfarello and pleas from Nagi to stop.

Nagi... in... to your room... now! Schuldig gritted out, mental voice strained and unsteady from the blows raining down on him. Hurry... up, will you?

As quickly as he had started, Crawford stopped again, sitting down to his coffee, sipping it as if nothing had happened. "As I said... Farfarello, want to see you. Nagi, piss off to school and that one," he indicated Schuldig with a twist of his shoulders, "can do what it wants as long as it's out of my sight."

But Schuldig didn't move, due to the simple reason that he couldn't. Pain was throbbing through his entire body, and he wasn't sure there hadn't been a foot or two actually connecting with his ass, explaining the part-paralysis he seemed to be suffering.

Nagi... you heard... the man. Bugger off, kiddo. See you tonight, 'kay? he added and solemnly swore he'd have the bloodstains out of the carpet by then.

Are you sure? I think you have broken something, I heard a cracking noise. I really should stay and help you to bed the kid offered, wincing as he looked at his friend.

Nah. Was just Crawford crinkling the leather of his shoes, I think. Schuldig flashed Nagi a mental grin, but stayed very still on the floor, knowing that if he moved, the blood would show. You totter off now. Get away from... this madhouse a little, k? Some normal people will do you good. Don't forget... that essay.

"Get out, kid. You'll be late. Farfarello, follow me. We need to talk." Crawford ignored the puddle on the floor as he lead Farfarello out the door, knowing he would be the only one who could come close enough to Schuldig to kill him; one more homicidal thought more or less in that sick mind would not be enough to alert the redhead of his mortal danger.

Schuldig drew a shallow breath of relief as doors finally seemed to shut everywhere around him, leaving him alone in the hallway, curled up into a small ball around his injuries. He knew he should get up; it would piss Crawford off no end if he came back and found him here still, but right now he didn't care. He'd get up; he just needed to stay here a little while. Just a little... while... Just... 

---

The door opened and Farfarello cackled so happily that even the daftest man would have been alerted. He loved murder. And even though he quite liked Schuldig, he'd always wondered what he would look like dead and strapped to a cross. Crawford had promised him he could do anything he liked to the body afterwards, but first he had to find the man. He smiled when he saw the familiar red hair straight ahead of him; Schuldig was still where Crawford had left him.

"Oh... mini-Hitler? I want to talk to you. Come here," Farfarello cooed.

"All right already," the German muttered dazedly. "Gimme a fucking hand, will you? My head is full of noisy things."

"I'll fill it with more than that," Farfarello giggled, raised the gun and fired.

"Fuck! What the hell are you...?" Instincts kicking in, Schuldig was on his feet in less than half a second, his heightened reflexes going into overdrive as he realised he was being shot at. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew he had to get out of there, so he turned to hurl himself at the door just as a burning, sizzling pain spread through his chest. It almost caused him to him loose balance, but with the speed he was already up in, he was out of the door before a second shot could ring out.

He didn't know where he went before he encountered the idea of the flowershop. The hours were spent in a pained haze trying to cover up for his own mind as well as not pass out on the street... but fuck, it hurt...

---

What really pissed Crawford off was that Farfarello seemed to be enjoying the torture, so he gave that up and reluctantly went to report to Estzet that they had a traitor who had left the group. He shuddered as he heard the rasping voice on the phone, nodding as the orders flowed towards him. 

--- 

Schuldig was slowly surfacing from the nightmare, and he was instantly aware that it had been a bad one. The sheets were wet and sticking to his body, and his breath was wheezing out of him, but that wasn't anywhere near as bad as the sneaking suspicion he was getting, confirmed as he turned his head to stare into Aya's horrified eyes.

Fuck. He had been broadcasting.

The downsides to being fairly untrained in comparison to many other Estzet agents was, amongst other things, that Schuldig's mind sometimes decided for him what to do. It had only happened to him once before, but that was enough for him to recognise it. Take one tortured mind, one at least semi-friendly soul, and _voila_! Schuldig's mind would connect to the other, like needle and thread, and clearly broadcast everything and anything going on in there. And he'd done that now. Not only had Fujimiya seen him having the nightmare, he'd had it alongside with him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"W..wh..what... just happened?" Aya asked in a quavering voice, the cold sweat on his body making him shiver.

"Nothing... forget it," Schuldig tried in a shaky voice, his vocal chords still sore from imaginary screaming. "Go back to sleep, sorry I woke you..."**   
**  
"I... I..." Aya quaked, his voice rasping and not willing to articulate the utter horror he felt. He hadn't had a nightmare like that since he'd been a small boy. "Need water," he finally croaked and got up to get the glass. "You want any?"

"Yes... yes please. You... okay?" The last question was rather tentative since Schuldig had no idea whether or not Fujimiya would take kindly to his concern, but after what they had just shared, he thought it was justified.

"Aside from feeling like someone just ripped my skin off and put it in a fridge, I'm fine," Aya said and shivered, quickly pouring the glass and downing it, pouring again and handing it to Schuldig as he climbed back in to bed. He got up again right away and yanked disgustedly at the sheets. "These are wet with sweat! I'll change them. Hang on."

"I can... "Schuldig protested but was cut off by a gasp of pain, real or imaginary he wasn't quite sure, "... change them," he finished weakly, trying to expel the lingering traces of nightmare in his mind, for both their sakes. "So... you... saw, huh?" he mumbled.  
**  
**"Saw? You mean... that wasn't a dream? What the hell was it then? I'm still shivering, and bloody cold." Aya emphasized the latter by getting his winter duvets down from the top cupboard, covering Schuldig in them before quickly diving under them himself, pressing close to Schuldig for what body heat he could find there. His left arm was burrowing under Schuldig's back to hold him in a tight embrace, using the top of his shoulder as a pillow.

The arm around Schuldig took him back slightly, and he almost started, staring at the limb in tired confusion.

"A... memory, it was... a memory... " he mumbled vaguely, still trying to get his shaking limbs under control. "You... shouldn't have... seen it." Shuddering, he unconsciously pressed closer to the warm body next to him.**  
**  
"No, I shouldn't." Aya agreed and shivered again. "Now I frankly don't know how I can wait till you are healed before seeking out Crawford and slicing his throat. My only problem is deciding whether to scalp him before or after. The asshole," Aya spat and pulled Schuldig just a little closer.

Schuldig laughed, a bitter, barking sound that was completely void of humour. "Kill him? For what? You going after the enemy for hurting the enemy now, samurai?"

"Are you my enemy still?" Aya said in a quiet voice, holding his breath waiting for the answer.

"Don't ask me," Schuldig replied quietly. "I said I'd help you guys, but I can't - won't - decide how you see me. Either way, it doesn't matter." He looked away, eyes glimmering faintly in the dark. "I'm just... scum, to you. Why should you kill him for doing something to me?"

"Oh, I thought you came to... me. I mean, _came to_ _me_," Aya intoned and started drawing his arm back, mortified that he had misunderstood so badly.

"Well... maybe I did," Schuldig admitted reluctantly, after a long pause. The lack of body contact made him shiver already, and despite himself, he wished that Aya would put his arm back. "That still doesn't mean you have to care."

"I don't. Not really," Aya started, but then exhaled deeply and turned his head to look at Schuldig, replacing his arm. "Fuck, yes. I do... I care. I like you, you oaf. Why do you make that so hard for me?"

"_Like me_?" Schuldig asked incredulously. "You? Seriously, this is... oh." His voice turned cold suddenly, and he started to move slightly under the covers. "Listen, Fujimiya, if you want to fuck me, all you have to do is say so, okay? There's no need to bloody court me."

"Idiot!" was all Aya said before he turned to turn out the lights, lying back down and pulling Schuldig's head onto his chest, stroking the wild hair, waiting for their hearts to forget the harrowing vision/nightmare.

Schuldig was utterly puzzled now. He risked a quick glance at his bed companion's mind, but found nothing but a vague, fuzzy content there, which was disturbing in itself. But even worse was the aftermath of the dream that was setting in now that he was relaxed again; the small tremors running through him, forcing quiet, unarticulated sounds from his throat.

"Fuck..." he muttered unsteadily.

"Sssh, sssh," Aya comforted him, keeping his strokes light and steady, feeling Schuldig's heartbeat beginning to relax. Schuldig snarled, but couldn't stop himself from grabbing onto the offered arms anyway, pressing close to keep the shivers down, his face thoroughly pressed into the pillow to hide the hot tears streaming into it. He didn't know what the hell he was up to. Perhaps it was just the combination of first that dream and then the gentle concern radiating from Aya, but whatever it was had obviously knocked his feet out from under him completely.

"Are you crying?" Aya whispered as he gathered Schuldig in his arms, pressing him close to his chest, feeling the wet tears instantly. "Pain? Or...? "

"No!" the German hissed, not sure what it was he was answering. But the chest of the t-shirt Aya slept in was quickly soaking, so he supposed arguing would only be silly.

"Well, 'don't' do it as long as you need to. I don't have the morning shift, so we can be up all night not crying if you want." Aya tried to make light of it as he felt the sobs wracking the body in his arms.

"Shut... up. Just... " It was supposed to be a biting remark, delivered with his usual venom, but one didn't sound quite as venomous when one was crying. It was just that the thought of lying there, in someone's arms and sobbing your heart out over the mess you were in felt so bloody good - Schuldig had never been able to do that before, had never had the time or the place - or the companion, for all that matters. But now all three were available, so in a way, he might just make good use of it. 

Biting down hard onto something he hoped wasn't Aya's shoulder, he sobbed loudly into it, too tired and hurting to fight it anymore. Aya just lay there, holding him, wondering if this wasn't too hard on the already depleted body, but he had no idea how to stop it. When he was a kid he had normally stopped crying when his dad told him to, where as his sister had been allowed to cry as much as she wanted. He'd always envied her in a way and certainly wasn't about to interrupt Schuldig. He just hoped the German would fall asleep before he completely exhausted himself.

---

Schuldig might have fallen asleep, but he didn't know it. Nightmares kept waking him up, having him clinging pathetically to Aya every time, and the night seemed bloody endless. At more than a few occasions, he was seriously pondering whether he wouldn't have been better off letting himself get shot.

"No, you wouldn't. And you're doing it again," Aya said out loud, wiping away yet another layer of sweat from Schuldig's forehead.

"S-sorry... I can't... it won't stop. I can... sleep on the couch, if... you want."

"I didn't mean the crying. I meant the broadcasting. I can 'hear' you. It's not so bad while I'm awake, I just thought I'd let you know you were doing it. You're staying right here. Just hold on a minute as I get you a dry t-shirt. And myself."

"Maybe you should stop giving me water. Seems like refilling me is a bad idea," Schuldig remarked quietly as Aya got out of bed, and he gingerly sat up to try and pull his sodden t-shirt off, which proved difficult with only one arm since the fabric seemed stuck to his body.

"Hang on a minute. I'm out of clean t-shirts." Aya popped out of the room and ran down the hall, returning with two dry t-shirts a moment later. "It's Yohji's. They're a bit bigger, so nice to sleep in. Let me help you out of that one." He pulled at the wet t-shirt, careful not to tangle it with the bandages on the left shoulder, handing Yohji's shirt to Schuldig. "It smells a bit of his aftershave, but you know Yohji. He can't boil water for tea without dolling himself up. Need help putting it on?"

"Eh... yes, I might, actually. Sorry. Didn't mean to keep you up nursing me. Silly, isn't it?" he said with a wry grin. "A week ago, you would gladly have offed me yourself, and look at this." He laughed a little, shaking his head.

"A week ago it wouldn't have killed my hopes as well. A week ago you hadn't asked for my help and protection. A week ago was a hundred years ago," Aya mused as he dressed Schuldig, trying hard not to think back to the days he had done the same for his little sister, since he really didn't want to participate in the crying session.

"Yeah... I guess it was," Schuldig admitted, looking oddly at Aya. "It's funny, you know. I've never had anyone dress me before."

"Surely your mother..." Aya began as he pushed Schuldig back down into the pillows, lying down with him.

Schuldig's face turned cold suddenly, and he glared at Aya. "I don't have a mother," he stated matter-of-factly, before turning his head away.

"A mountain goat spat you out, and thus Schuldig came to be?" Aya mocked him.

"Something like that, yes," the German agreed smoothly.

"Well, at least it explains the hair." Aya resigned and turned the lights out again, trying to pull Schuldig's head back onto his shoulder.

"What's wrong with it?" Schuldig asked, his voice tired and rather small suddenly.

"Well, you know goat beards...?" Aya smiled in the dark, wondering if Schuldig could see it.

"Idiot," Schuldig stated, but he did grin a little as he said it. "Are you tired, Fujimiya?"

"Why would I be? It's only 4.30," Aya yawned and turned to face Schuldig. "And you? Think you can sleep a little now?"  
**  
"**Well..." Schuldig looked down at his hands, shaking his head slowly. "I'm not sure. If it comes back, and you... you know, see it, again..."

"If that happens, then we'll wake again. But I hope it's not going to stop us from ever sleeping again, will it?" He surprised himself by gently kissing the tip of Schuldig's nose, feeling very protective of the man in his care.

"N..." Schuldig went quiet and stared at his nose in surprise as if it was the first time he'd seen it, but had to give up the effort as it made him cross-eyed.

"Good, lie down then. Want to lie here?" Aya patted his chest as he made himself comfortable against the soft pillow.

"Eh... would you want me there?" Schuldig asked, looking hesitantly at the offered spot.

"No, I'm thinking of opening a disco and using it as a dance floor. Would you test it for me?"

"Hey, be nice to the invalid!" Schuldig replied, but he lay down on Aya's chest anyway, pressing one ear to it, the sound of the steady heartbeat oddly soothing. He sighed, feeling sleep creep up on him again, and before he could stop himself, he yawned loudly.

"Sleep tight, Schu," Aya whispered as he tucked the winter comforter tightly around Schuldig's shoulders, patting them in place, making sure there was air enough for the recumbent redhead to breathe.

"You... hnnmm... too..." Schuldig mumbled, and then he snuggled into the warm chest and fell asleep.  
**  
**Pondering why he was smiling like a schoolboy kept Aya awake for a while longer, but the small soft snores from Schuldig were so relaxing that within long he too drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

---

"Hmmm…?" was the first thing Schuldig said as he woke up several hours later; the bright light filtering through the blinds informing him that he had survived another night. He winced a little as he tried to turn to look up at the man whose chest he was resting on, hoping that Aya would still be asleep so he could slide back down onto his pillow, hopefully making the other redhead forget about certain parts of the previous night.

He watched in surprise as Aya's nose wrinkled in displeasure, and risking a quick glance at the sleeping mind, Schuldig realised that the sour face was due to the fact that the warm, comforting thing in Aya's arms was trying to pull away. The Japanese man tightened his hold and wriggled back into the mattress, leaving Schuldig slightly puzzled.

He had never been in a situation like this before, but some deeply buried instinct told him that he ought to stay still, so he did. Aya didn't seem to be in any hurry to wake up, and Schuldig was warm, relatively pain free and cuddled. He fell right back asleep as soon as the realisation hit him.

/tmp/uploads/1114304.doc


	9. Shaua

_A/N: Sorry for taking __so long in updating, guys! We have a wedding to plan, so things have been beyond weird… but at least we have things to wear now! Just missing the rings… shudders Anyways, here's a little short sweetness for you: Schu gets clean and learns that there are, indeed, nice people in the world.  
And, as always, thanks for all your support. I usually come here to look at your comments when I'm in a bad mood – it helps like you wouldn't believe. Have a nice weekend, everybody!_

Aya had never sneezed so hard in his life. He felt his forehead would bang into the ceiling, and but for the body holding his down, it might have. The gazillion little red hairs that had crept into his nostrils with the morning breeze were probably the culprits, but at the moment he was too busy sneezing to formally charge them.

"_Gesundheit_..." Schuldig mumbled in his sleep, the hand of his uninjured arm grabbing determinedly onto Aya's t-shirt, keeping the grip there.

"A... morning... tjuh!...So... Ah... rry... tjuh! Don't know what's wrong with ...aaaaa... me ...tjuuuh! Sorry." Aya looked miserable as he tried to sit, sure that he had torn every stitch out of Schuldig's shoulder wound with his violent wake up call.

"I think... I might know," Schuldig admitted, blinking sleepily up at Aya before sitting up with a grimace, tugging at his hair to prove his point. However, he had forgotten how sore his scalp still was after the latest pummelling by Crawford, and the unexpected sting made him hiss.

"What's wrong? Have I hurt you?" Aya sat up too, quickly examining Schuldig's scalp for injuries.

"No, no," the German muttered, trying to fend Aya off as the last thing he needed was more humiliation after last night's fiasco. "It's old," he lied.

"Oh, ok." Aya stopped fussing and stretched, then opened his eyes widely. "Holy…! It's 10.45. I've never slept this late before in my life! You must be starved for breakfast. Why on earth didn't Omi bring break..."

A quick glance over his shoulder showed that Omi _had_ brought breakfast, although the soup was cold now, and the bread looked a bit stale.

"Err... guess we have slept soundly, huh?" Aya said quietly, still struggling to understand how this could have happened to him.

"Looks like it," Schuldig reluctantly admitted, a bit surprised himself. He was usually a very light sleeper, as were most assassins, but he assumed that he had started healing already, and that alone usually took a lot of energy out of him.

"I have to be in the shop at midday, so I'll need more than stale bread. I'll just run down and make us some brunch. Want a shower while I'm gone or just sleep a bit more?" Aya asked as he got up and rummaged around for a kimono.

"I think I'll stay here. Too wobbly to shower," Schuldig said with a wry grin. "So you're... working all day from now?"

"Yeah, until we close, and then I have to help Ken with the accounts. And check the perimeter. And cook dinner. Omi will be with you this afternoon, though. He might help you take a shower. Or I can do it after brunch? If you want..."

Aya went on talking as he tightened the belt on his kimono and ran a comb quickly through his soft hair.

"I'm not letting that _brat_ help me with anything!" Schuldig growled, still clearly remembering the slaps he had gotten as he was kneeling on the floor of the shop, sick and bleeding and generally not too good-looking. He was about to say something else about where Tsukiyono could stick his cross-bow, but his mouth was left half-open as he stared at Aya. "A _kimono_?" he asked.

"Did you think I wore my coat indoors? Complete with katana?" Aya snickered and straightened up, knowing he looked damn good in the black and gold kimono Yohji had bought him for New Year's.

Well... yes," Schuldig admitted, snickering as that comment earned him a glare. "Actually, we used to be fairly sure you slept in it as well. Glad we were wrong, though. You're quite comfy under all that leather," he admitted, trying not to stare.

"Why, thank you. You're quite snug yourself. I've never slept this long before," Aya replied, his stomach growling loudly to confirm his statement.

"Snug?? _Snug_? Get down there before I kick your ass," Schuldig said, but it was without any of his usual venom as he found it rather hard to take his eyes off said person whom he had promised to kick. Damn, but Fujimiya could look good when he wanted to.

"Heh! That's no way to get you breakfast. You'll be far likelier to succeed if you kiss my ass," Aya grinned and hurried out the door.

Schuldig grumbled, but he was too bed-warm and comfortable to argue, so he leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift. It was relatively quiet inside his head right now, and such moments of peace were rare; he might as well make use of it. Besides, his shoulder had started to throb again, and he was fairly sure that moving around would be a bad idea.

The door slammed open again suddenly, as Aya kicked it to make room for the tray in his arms. "Coffee, juice, rice buns, eggs, noodles, salmon, tuna and beef. What do you want to start with?" he queried as he placed the tray on the bed.

"Eh..." Schuldig replied, staring at the tray. "I don't... usually do breakfast, but..." He grinned wryly. "Now that you've gone and made it... fork over some coffee to start with?"

"This is hardly breakfast, it's nearly lunchtime." Aya munched on a rice bun as he poured coffee for both of them, handing Schuldig a cup. "Shower after this? I can hold you up and wash your hair, if you want."

"I can wash myself, thank you, Ms. Nightingale," Schuldig quipped, but he couldn't bring himself to be really nasty to the other man, not after the night they had just spent together and the brunch. "Or do you just want to see me in the buff again?" he asked with a sly grin, stretching out a little.

"Obviously," Aya said with a straight face, not even looking at Schuldig, concentrating on his coffee instead.

"So..." Schuldig put his cup aside, running a hand under the borrowed t-shirt he was wearing, pulling it up just enough to show off a taut stomach, one long scar marring the smooth skin.

"...want a piece of this?"

"Yes, soaped up." Aya wrinkled his nose and turned to grin at Schuldig. "You could surely use a bath, German."

"Yeah well, sorry for forgetting the aftershave after they shot me," Schuldig said with a wry grin.

"You wear aftershave?" Aya looked puzzled at Schuldig.

"Sometimes, yes. Why? You think us bad guys never shower, or something?"

"I just never thought of you that way... but yeah, you did smell kind of nice that night... you know." Aya caught himself last minute before a blush could set in. "So, you want help with the shower, or will you be all right on your own?"

Schuldig frowned. "I might need help... getting in there, you know? And... if you've got something I can cover the wound with."

He was fighting a blush of his own as he realised he was in no shape to shower all by himself, and he wasn't too keen on the situation. But he'd never live down lying in the bed of his enemy smelling of blood and sweat and fuck knew what else, either, so all he could do was bite down on his humiliation and go along with it.

"Got that covered." Aya pointed to a pile of sheer plastic sheets he had put at the end of the bed. "We're in the business of getting hurt, you may say. I've got all the necessities here. Just say when."

"No hurry, just get me in there before you leave if you want to improve the atmosphere."

"Sure... as if. I'm staying until you are out again, and safely tucked into bed. And that's not open for discussion," Aya informed him and handed him a bowl with noodles and fish, as well as a set of chopsticks.

"Hey, I'm not a frigging charity case. You don't have to '_care_', you know," Schuldig snapped, not feeling like wobbling around in the bathroom with the other redhead hanging on the door handle.

"You came to me, you came into my care. And until I pronounce you healed, you'll remain so. Now eat." Aya pointed to the bowl of steaming noodles, ignoring the scathing glares he was getting.

"Fine. Stubborn git," Schuldig muttered and began shoving the noodles into his mouth, rather inelegantly, he must admit, but since he could only use one arm properly, it would have to do. He had to admit that they were damn good, though.

Humming with delight at having filled his stomach, Aya finally turned to assure that Schuldig had eaten his fill. "Had enough? I can make you another portion of the fish, and there's beef too."

"Nah, I'm fine. Small stomach," Schuldig grinned and patted said body part. "At least you won't have to pay a fortune for having one extra guy in here eating."

Aya stared blankly at him while he put the tray away. "Ready? I'll help you out of the t-shirt, and then we'll wrap the wound."

Making a face, Schuldig sat up properly, holding one arm out for assistance, the other lagging behind as he didn't want to lift it in case the bleeding started again.

Aya expertly removed the t-shirt and dressed the wound tightly with a plastic wrapping. He then helped Schuldig on to wobbly feet and walked them both to the bathroom, placing Schuldig on the toilet while he ran the shower till the temperature was right. He removed his kimono and t-shirt and hung them on a peg on the door, then turned to Schuldig, reaching a hand out to him. "Shall we get wet, my wounded friend?"

"'We'? Since when is there a 'we' involved in my shower?" Schuldig protested and wobbled even more as talking and rising at once seemed to be too much for him.

"Since you got shot, oh dirty one. Come on, you don't want to rub naked parts together?" Aya grinned and reached out a steadying hand.

"That's not the first thing on my mind, no. Believe it or not," Schuldig muttered and batted the offered hand away. "Get off, I can manage."

"Ok," Aya simply said and folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the bathroom wall with a patient look on his face. "Any time you're ready."

Glaring at him, Schuldig managed to walk almost all the four steps to the shower, but as soon as the water hit him, it almost toppled him over, sending him sprawling against the opposite wall, hissing with pain and anger and humiliation.

"If you want a hand, Schu, I'm right here." Aya didn't bat an eyelid as he just waited for the stubborn German to ask for help.

"Piss off!" Schuldig snapped at him and let himself sink to the floor, cursing all the way. He hated the fact that Fujimiya was still there, staring at him and just waiting for him to fuck up. "And stop calling me 'Schu', dammit. I have a name, you can use it."

"You do?" Aya's eyebrows shot up as he automatically bent to pick Schuldig up, placing his arms under the German's armpits and pulling until he was standing erect again, albeit in a tight embrace. "What is it, then?"

Schuldig locked eyes with the other man, blue eyes cold. "'Schuldig'," he replied curtly, trying not to notice how his cold skin prickled as some of the warm water hit it.

"Oh, come on. Surely you have a real name too. Is this too hot?" Aya asked as he slowly backed them both into the warm stream of water, holding Schuldig tight against him, making sure he couldn't slip on the wet floor.

"That is the name I've go-" Schuldig began but gasped as he was finally placed inside the hot stream, the water blissfully warm against his chilled body. "No..." he managed to say in between shudders.

"Hey... why are you shivering?" Aya pulled Schuldig so tight that he could feel the other man's nipples against his skin, and for just a moment, he laid his face against Schuldig's shoulder, imagining what it could be like to have a lover like this, for real, forever.

"You wouldn't want me, kid; I'm used up goods," Schuldig informed him flatly, but with his bad arm, he couldn't scrape Fujimiya off, and to his annoyance, it was rather nice to have the other man's face pressed against him like that; it was even sweet, in a way.

"Sorry." Aya immediately stood erect, making sure there was enough space between them for the water to pass, the soft expression on his face instantly replaced by a neutral one. Strangely enough, Schuldig thought that made him look more… normal. The caring, gentle creature that had looked after him ever since he came to the flower shop had been slightly unnerving, to be honest, and it confused Schuldig no end.

"Whatever," Schuldig muttered in the end, trying out his limp arm, carefully twisting it this way and that with pained grimaces. "I guess this means you have to wash me too, eh?" he asked with a wry grin.

"I guess. If you wouldn't mind," Aya said and propped Schuldig up against the wall. "Just tell me where it hurts; I'll try to be gentle." He lathered up a sponge with soap and began carefully washing the bruised body, starting at the shoulders and working his way down the broad chest. Halfway down he developed a problem and turned to turn hide it. "Ermm... sorry... just got to readjust the water temperature."

If Schuldig really had informed Aya of where it hurt, he would have been talking constantly, but he guessed that the way he involuntarily shrank back from the touches made it rather obvious anyway. He did grin, however, as the other turned away from him, and grabbed him by the arm.

"No, by all means, turn right back," he said, amused. "Let me see."

"Schuldig, please!" Aya protested and covered himself with the sponge. He blushed fiercely and kept his back to the German, hoping he would let this one slide.

"Oh, come on now. You've slept with me, don't be silly." Schuldig smirked and made Aya turn, deftly taking the sponge away from him, giving a long, low whistle in admiration. "What, you get off on bruises or something?" he asked, peering at Aya from underneath his wet hair.

"No...!" Aya protested in a small voice, then looked up at Schuldig in horror. "No! I most certainly do not." He snatched the sponge back and lathered it vigorously. "Now, let me finish washing you. I'll be gentle on the bruises... it's just that I can't see them when you are covered in soap, and you do have a fine chest, my friend. It's only human to... react."

"Like... this?" Schuldig asked insidiously, sneaking a hand in between their bodies to wrap long fingers around the hard shaft, stroking it slowly.

"S...schu!" Aya whispered, dropping the sponge on the floor, reaching out to steady himself against the wall. "You're hurt... we shouldn't..."

"I still have one good arm..." Schuldig purred into Aya's ear, letting his tongue trace it slowly. "But if you're that worried about it..." Somewhat clumsily, he slid to his knees and nuzzled the hard flesh, tongue curiously teasing the head. "Better?" he breathed against the hot skin.

"Gnnnn!" Aya answered, both arms now holding the wall up, just in case.

Yeah... like that, Schuldig purred into his mind, wrapping his bad arm around Aya's waist to hold it relatively still, but also to pull the other man deeper down his throat as he relaxed it fully and swallowed him, tongue circling the warm skin.

Aya had never tried anything like it. It sure beat his own right hand; even that drunken night that he barely remembered. This was the real thing, and he couldn't believe how good it felt. He thought he better tell Schuldig so.

"Gniiiiis... oohh...oood! Snmore... Sohoon," he moaned as his knees buckled slightly under him.

You'll have to stand up yourself, you know Schuldig informed him and pulled away slightly, taking Aya in his hand as he licked around the head slowly, dipping his tongue into the slit.

"Aaarrggh…" Aya screamed as he shook uncontrollably, the orgasm taking him so much by surprise that he slid unceremoniously down the wall, landing with a small thud on his knees. His head fell down to drop on Schuldig's shoulder. He tried to apologize, but only small wheezing sounds came out between his teeth.

"I take it you liked that...?" Schuldig grinned and sat back, licking the come from his lips, tossing his wet hair behind him. "Apologize? For what?" he asked with a smug grin.

"I sh...sh... shouldn't have... you're in my... care... I... you... oh!" Aya gave up on his blabber and suddenly grabbed Schuldig's face, each of his big hands cuddling a high-boned cheek as he pressed his lips against Schuldig's, his tongue drilling an entrance for himself as he kissed him passionately.

That's more like it Schuldig told him as he let himself be kissed. I knew you had it in you somewhere... tell me, Aya, do you want me...?

"Wnn... pnn... nnnn!" Aya explained, not knowing how to communicate with Schuldig mentally, so he broke the kiss and panted into his ear. "I want to please you, like you pleased me. May I?"

And with that he moved an arm down and tentatively stroked Schuldig's member, still dizzy with the pleasure he had just felt.

There was a surprised hiss from Schuldig, who tried to back away but was unable to, with Aya holding onto his shaft, and he arched his back in shocked pleasure, into that warm hand, a moan leaving his lips.

"I've never done this before, so tell me if it's wrong, ok?" Aya whispered as he dipped his head, unable to resist the temptation of taking the bud of Schuldig's right nipple into his mouth, and he sucked eagerly at it as his hand began stroking the hardening shaft.

Schuldig cried out and instinctively spread his legs, although this was far from what he was used to, but it felt so good, and he tried to buck up into all the small fires lit all over his body, delirious little sounds spilling from his lips despite his best efforts to stifle them.

Aya smiled as his debut seemed to please Schuldig, and he reluctantly left the nipple to the steamy air as he kissed his way down the taught stomach, for a moment hesitating just above the hard shaft, wondering what those small glistening drops would taste like.

He stuck his tongue out to try and smiled at the taste of Schuldig. "You're sweet," he said just before he bent to take the head in to his mouth, sucking at it to produce more saltysweet drops.

Schuldig thought he'd come right there; the pleasure was just too much, and the way Aya had kissed his way across his body had just been... He didn't quite know what to call it, but he assumed 'sweet' would have been the most appropriate word, and now there was fire pooling in his stomach, his hips moving against Aya's mouth in a silent plea.

"Gnnhh..." The motion had Aya momentarily gagging, not used to this activity, and certainly not to having so much in his mouth at once. He soon adjusted, however, finding a rocking motion that let his mouth move up and down the shaft, his right hand snaking between the legs to play with the soft sack there, rolling the balls in his fingers.

Fuck... Fujimiya, I'm gonna... was all the warning Aya got before Schuldig virtually exploded, crying out and nearly collapsing as he came, so overwhelmed with the actions that he couldn't seem to stop shuddering. He usually wasn't a fast comer, but this... This had been so...

Aya swallowed as fast as he could, but it seemed to keep coming. Finally he had to give up and open his mouth, letting the white juices run back down over the cock they had come from. He coughed a little and then straightened up, pulling Schuldig towards him. The two of them knelt silently under the running water as Aya held the German tight, caressing his back, kissing his shoulder, feeling like he'd found a lover.

I... I told you you wouldn't want me Schuldig said unsteadily, feeling like he had somehow gotten himself into more than he could handle; he just wasn't sure why it didn't exactly feel bad.

"Why wouldn't I want you?" Aya whispered, baffled, as he right then really felt like he did indeed want Schuldig.

It's... a long story. You've seen some of it, so don't ask was all Schuldig could offer, the strange feeling of being held making him feel both comfortable and nervous. He had already seen the other redhead's mind, and there was no malice in it. That was only one of the things that made him jumpy.

"I'm a big boy. I can make my own choices. And for now we're kind of stuck together... so couldn't we just... I mean, if you are living with me anyway... do you mind?" Aya felt as eloquent as a four year old, having no idea how to court an assassin.

"You mean... you want to fuck me?" Schuldig ventured, but his voice was free of all sarcasm, and he longed to pull away from Aya so he could look at him, but he simply couldn't. He was comfortable.

"Or... the other way around," Aya answered, glad that Schuldig couldn't see him as he could feel how he was blushing again.

"I don't top, Fujimiya," Schuldig informed him curtly, staring at the opposite wall.

"Only when drunk?" Aya giggled, remembering flashes from that drunken night.

"That... was a one-time occurrence," Schuldig admitted, but he also had to grin a little as the very vivid image of a very enthusiastic Aya came to mind. He never would have thought that of the Ice Prince.

"But it was sort of… nice. Sure you wouldn't like to try that again?" Aya tried, still massaging the German's back.

"Hnn...what?" Schuldig asked, feeling like a babe being rocked to sleep sitting like that. Damn thing was, it worked. "Oh... it's not really my thing. I was born a bottom, you know."

"I've never tried that. You know, topping," Aya explained as he straightened up and managed to look Schuldig in the eye.

"I guess that makes two of us, then," Schuldig said, staring at a point somewhere next to Aya's ear.

"Oh, then who the heck was on top of me that night?" Aya said and picked up the sponge, now really having something to wash off Schuldig, which he gingerly started on.

"That was once... in a lifetime, like I said," Schuldig protested, wincing as the sponge slid over quite a few bruises.

"Once isn't the same as never. I mean, I literally... never. And I'd like you to be... my first." He blushed again, but tried to cover it with a rare smile as he hurried with the washing, seeing how it hurt his... 'lover'.

"Me?" Schuldig asked with a grin, partly to cover up the fact that he was in pain. "Come now, surely you can do better."

"Oh, it wasn't good?" Aya misunderstood and his face dropped, disappointed.

"I meant better than me," Schuldig elaborated. "I'm Schwarz, Aya. Why would you want me to... be your first?"

"Stay out of my mind, you sneaky bastard. Besides, you're hardly Schwarz anymore... and you just feel good. Is all. And you're here. In my care. In my arms. And I like what I feel. So there! Shall I do your hair?"

"If you think _I'm_ deadly..." Schuldig half-joked, eyeing Aya with amusement. "It might swallow you, you know. Are you sure you don't want to tell the others before going in?"

"I've been through worse," Aya assured him and grabbed the shampoo, lathering the hair up, rinsing it out again - and surviving the ordeal. He grabbed a small towel and wrapped it around the large hair, and then a large towel, wrapping that around the skinny German.

"There... all ready to go back to bed. Will you be all right till I'm back up tonight?"

"Yeah... I'll manage. Things have been worse, you know," Schuldig admitted, eyeing the towels.

"Good." Aya carefully led Schuldig back to the bed and patted him down with two comforters before donning his orange sweater and a pair of jeans.

"Omi will be with you with an afternoon snack when he's back from school. If anything... happens, just scream. I'll hear you."

"Don't send the kid in here," Schuldig advised him, wriggling to get comfortable. "He doesn't like me. Not that I blame him, but anyway."

"He's fair. You are in our care, so he'll be cool. Don't worry. He needs somewhere to sit and do his homework anyway, so it may as well be Schu-sitting."

Aya grinned and ducked, sure that something would be hurled his way.

A deadly glare was all Schuldig could manage, but in the end, he grinned. "Whatever. Hurry off now, flowerboy, or the others will have my ass for keeping you. And I kinda did promise you could have said ass, so..." He winked.

"Really, loverboy? I look forward to that."

Aya blew him a kiss and was out the door, leaving a slightly baffled, very wet German behind. **  
**

/tmp/uploads/1114304.doc 


	10. Napoleon, who?

**10. Napoleon, who?**

_The body in his arms was limp, so terribly limp… Something was wrong with it, he knew it, and he shook it gently, trying to make it stir. Nothing happened._

"Julia!" he called out, panic starting to clutch at him now. She wasn't, she couldn't be… not her, too. Had he really…

"Julia!" he tried again, his childish voice cracking from tears and terror. "Julia, wake up! I didn't mean to do it, I'm sorry! Please, open your eyes!"

"It's no use," the strange man suddenly said from the door opening, making him jerk in surprise and turn his tear-streaked face towards the voice. "She's dead, just like the others."

"No!" The boy shook his head wildly, tears dripping from his cheeks. "No, she can't be! I didn't… I didn't want that! Please, make her better again! You can, can't you?"

He tried lifting the lifeless form towards the man, hoping he could take her and fix her and make her smile just like she used to, but the man just shook his head.

"I can't mend what you have broken, child. That's why you need to come with us. We will teach you how to control yourself, so that nothing like this can ever happen again."

"No! I'm not going with you!"

His grip on the dead girl tightened, knuckles whitening around the thin arms. This man was bad, he just knew it, and he didn't want to go anywhere. He wanted… he wanted to stay here and be cold and still with unseeing eyes, just like them. He wanted to lie on the floor until he wasn't breathing anymore, just like them.

"Yes, you are," a voice said next to his ear, and suddenly there were arms around him, yanking him from the floor, making him drop the girl. Her head hit the floor with a sickening thud, and he screamed.

"Let me go! I don't want to!"

The arms around him spun him around suddenly, putting him face to face with the strange man who was holding him. The boy tried to push him away, but the man was much stronger.

"Stop fighting, child, and look at what you've just done. You need to learn how to control what you do, or you will continue hurting people all your life. Is that what you want? Do you want to do this to other fam_ilies? Other children?"_

"N-no…" the boy whispered, the mere thought making his stomach clench painfully. "No, I don't ever…"

He was shivering now, and his palms felt oily and wet and hot. It was disgusting. His stomach felt the same, too.

"Good boy," the man said, and he was smiling now, but the smile just made the child feel even worse. "Come with me, then, before the others come to take you away."

"Take me away…?" the boy breathed, confused. The room was spinning around him now, and he could barely stand. Who would take him away? Another strange man? What did someone else want with him?

"Yes. You hurt these people, child. You know that the police come to take people like you away, right?"

He shook his head slowly. Yes, of course he knew that, but… they only took evil people away, people who hurt others for no reason… not people like him. He wasn't one of the evil people!

"I'm not like them…" he protested, but the strange man simply pointed to the girl on the floor and nodded. The boy swallowed. They couldn't come to take him away…

"Hurry now, boy. We have to leave this place before they come for you. I won't let them take you, but then we have to go – now."

The boy cried, but an idea had begun to form in his head.

"If I g-go with you," he stammered, "will you teach m-me how to make them better again? B-bring them back? I can do that, right?"

He stared up at the strange man, who looked into the tear-filled eyes and smiled.

"Yes. Yes, you can. I will teach you how to do it, I promise. If you work hard with me, I'll show you."

The boy made up his mind then. He was still shaking, but he placed his small hand in the man's, letting himself be led down the stairs. As they passed the living room, he saw the still warm bodies lying on the floor in there, and that made him stop abruptly, doubling over as his stomach emptied itself violently. He was sick and he was hurting and he wanted them to get up from the floor and hug him and tell him it was all right. But they couldn't do that, not now… perhaps not in many, many years.

The arms were lifting him again, dragging him, but he couldn't stop feeling sick. He was still heaving by the time they were out in the front garden, and the tears were flowing freely down his cheeks.

His sobs quietened as he lifted his head and saw other strange men there, one, two… six of them, and he yelped and tried to hide from their curious eyes, but the first strange man still held his arms.

"What took you so long?" one of them asked, walking up to them to try looking at the boy.

The first strange man said something, but in a language the boy didn't understand, and the others laughed.

Things were a blur after then. He still felt sick, but they tossed him in a car and closed the doors. By then he had changed his mind and was crying for them to let him out, saying he would rather stay in there with them_, but they refused to open the door. He cried as he watched the little house vanish in the back window, and he cried even harder as he realised he'd left his bunny behind in there. Then he thought of all the other precious things that had been left behind in there, and the sobs kept getting harder until he couldn't breathe anymore._

---

Omi sighed as he dropped his schoolbag on the floor next to the chair. He glanced over to the bed and asked Schuldig, without too much compassion in his voice, "I sure hope I didn't wake you."

"Don't worry about it, kid. I'm fine," the redhead answered and turned over, facing the other wall.

"Right." Omi took the assurance at face value. "I'll just get on with my homework then. Let me know if you need anything."

"Nah… just let me be," Schuldig assured him.

"Listen. I'm here to take care of you and make sure you have what you need. Those are the specific, direct orders from Aya. Any failure in complying will mean multiple rounds of doing the dishes and his laundry, so kindly let me know if you need anything," Omi emphasized.

"Sure, sure," Schuldig muttered and burrowed down in the blankets, seriously pretending to be asleep.

Omi read quietly for an hour or two, mumbling now and then as Schuldig seemingly slept next to him. He was quite relieved that the German wasn't communicative. He'd be in shit trouble with Aya if he didn't treat him nice, and he'd rather eat shit than treat him nice. Dilemma! Well, not the only one he'd ever been in.

"Could you keep it down a notch, kid? I'm trying to get some shuteye here," Schuldig grumbled, cracking a rather bleary eye open. "You still at it? Amazing," he mumbled.

"Still at what? Reading? Are you saying that actual intelligent learning is disturbing the sleep of your highness? Some of us have to study to learn, you know. We can't just pick it out of other peoples brains," Omi harrumphed and turned a page as loudly as he could.

"Poor you," Schuldig muttered without any particular sympathy. "Then again, you have the choice between actually trying to be quiet, or me _making_ you. What do you say?" He smiled unpleasantly.

Omi stopped mid-page and turned, shocked. "You wouldn't dare... not here! Oh, no you wouldn't," he sneered back.

Schuldig merely raised an eyebrow at him, his eyes glinting with an unspoken challenge.

"Mess with my mind, and I'll tell Aya!" Omi almost, but at least only almost, poked his tongue out at the irritating man.

"_Kochikochi_," Schuldig taunted, dragging himself to a sitting position with some effort.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Omi slammed his book shut in frustration and glared; really, really glared hard at Schuldig as if he could drag the story out of his brain.

"I'm sitting in bed. Isn't that obvious?" Schuldig stated calmly. "What does it look like, genius?"

"_Baka_!" Omi mumbled and opened his book again. "You're not worth wasting breath on. Can't you go back to sleep or something? Please don't tell me you need anything."

Omi was suddenly hit by the terrifying notion that the German needed help to go to the bathroom.

"No, and if you think I'd ever want your help with _that_, you've got another thing coming," Schuldig sneered, but the sour face turned into a grin as he thought of something that would really rile the kid. "Actually, I'd rather have Fujimiya help me with that. At least he's got a cute ass."

"Ewwwwww!" Omi howled and stood up, shaking his head as if he was trying to clear his mind. "Don't tell me you... touch him!"

"Why not?" Schuldig grinned and wriggled a little to get comfortable. "He's pretty. And besides, it's not like _I'm_ doing all the touching," he added and wriggled an eyebrow.

"You wish!" Omi spat and got himself under control again. He sat down in the chair and picked up the history book he'd let drop.

"I don't have to," Schuldig pointed out smugly and generously offered Omi a vivid image of his last encounter with Aya in the shower.

The sound of a heavy book hitting the floor filled the otherwise silent room.

"Now, now," Schuldig said cheerfully. "I know you'd rather hurl that book at _me_, right?"

"Is that real... or am I imagining those... things in my head?" a very pale Omi asked.

"It's very real," Schuldig purred. "Why, Tsukiyono, don't tell me you've never heard of the concept of sex before."

"But not... _Aya_!" Omi wailed, unable to see how the ice king could have melted, but he sure had. "... and why you?"

Apart from the problem of a fallen hero, the images had gifted Omi with a problem of the opposite nature between his legs, and he quickly picked up the book to place it in his lap.

"I'm afraid you'd have to ask him about that," Schuldig purred. "Haven't been reading his mind, after all."

Casting a quick glance towards the book, he chuckled.

"Is that a dent in your book, or are you just happy to see me?" he asked gleefully.

"Pffft!" Omi spat inelegantly and crossed his legs, ignoring the pain of doing so.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Schuldig felt very helpful suddenly and offered the kid a very vivid image, in Technicolor and feeling, of what his mouth could do to a tormented hard-on. Omi moaned and threw the book down, heading for the bathroom in a near spurt, slamming the door behind him.

[Not in there, silly. I'll hear you even without telepathy Schuldig informed him kindly. [Are you sure you want to handle that on your own?

The sound of splashing water filled the room and Omi exited minutes later looking a bit flustered, and shivering a bit with cold.

"Don't even go near my mind... you said you didn't' read his... then don't touch mine either!" he hissed out through gritted teeth.

"I'm not reading it. You're practically overflowing with emotion," Schuldig informed him. "I don't have to read it since you're shoving it down my throat, so to speak. And speaking of shoving things down my throat..." he smirked.

"You put those images in my mind!" Omi protested, very sourly, and primly picking his book up, flattening the slightly damaged page it had fallen on. "And stop talking like that. I'm not even gay!"

"Not really, just playing with what was already there," Schuldig protested. "Not gay, huh? So how come the thought of me sucking your cock made a dent in European history, hmm?" He nodded towards the book.

"It was the feeling you made me feel!" Omi protested. "I don't want stuff like... that! And definitely not from you! I knew you couldn't stick to Aya... you're just a whore to every man, aren't you?"

"Actually, I am," Schuldig stated matter-of-factly and pulled the cover down somewhat, revealing a flat stomach scantily covered by a thin, borrowed shirt. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, batting his eyelashes.

"Yeah, when you offer to blow me it is!" Omi nodded and pretended not to look.

"What, you've got that much of a low opinion of yourself?" Schuldig grinned. "Think I'm desperate?"

"You must be," Omi grumbled.

"Well, I don't have many friends," Schuldig said cheerfully. "And you're kinda cute," he added, eyeing Omi with a grin.

Omi couldn't help but burst out laughing at that open, happy face.

"You're absolutely nuts, know that?" he grinned.

The reaction took Schuldig by surprise, so much, in fact, that he felt his own lips quirk upwards in an amused smile, and he shrugged.

"Occupational hazard, I guess," he said blithely.

"I guess," Omi snickered, thinking that Aya might not be completely round the bend falling for Schuldig, at least not when he smiled like that. "I guess we all are. You and Aya-kun leading the field, mind you."

"Somebody's gotta do it, "Schuldig stated, slightly stunned by Omi's thoughts. "So, I guess his taste isn't so bad after all, huh?" he said, in a much softer voice.

"YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T READ MY MIND!" Omi hollered as he stood so fast that the book was getting used to flying off his lap and was considering taking a certificate.

"I didn't, I didn't," Schuldig said, raising his hands in a soothing gesture. "You're kinda loud, is all. It's hard to avoid you when you're this close."

"Oh, sorry," Omi said meekly, reclaiming the well-battered book. "I don't know much about the... send-shit! I just think. How do I think quietly?" he asked, more interested in shielding his thoughts from Schuldig than in sparing the other man.

"You try to feel it, rather than thinking it aloud," Schuldig advised. "Instead of hearing your own voice in your mind, it's like trying to put a mental lid on it, if that makes any sense. Since I'm not an empath, spontaneous feelings won't reach me, but thoughts will."

"But I can't read this shit without thinking it out loud!" Omi wailed. "It's mind numbingly boring otherwise. I have to make... voices," he admitted.

"That's okay. As long as you don't scream. People tend to scream when they get upset, which is just silly since no one can hear them think anyway - apart from me, that is. And sometimes that's enough to have Nagi scraping me off the wall."

"Oh?" Omi looked interested. "Why?"

"Because it hurts like fuck. The brain is a pretty good amplifier, and when someone screams in my mind, it's so fucking loud it makes my ears implode." The mere notion made Schuldig wince.

"Really?" Omi imagined Schuldig with his ears turned inwards and tried to hide the smile.

"Hey!" Schuldig protested, looking miffed as as he slowly scrabbled into a more comfortable position and wrapped thin arms around his knees. "You did it that loud on purpose, you little brat!"

"It worked?" Omi looked surprised.

"Yes, thank you," Schuldig sulked.

"Good!" Omi almost didn't smile as he turned his book back to the chapter on Napoleonic wars and sighed with disgust, reading the paragraph about Austerlitz for the seventh time without really reading it.

"What are you groaning about?" Schuldig asked to get away from the topic, peering over at the book.

"What's the point of having to remember dates of old battles in countries I have barely heard about?" Omi swore and threw down the book. He really liked school. Particularly those subjects that had definite, absolute answers to problems that he could solve, but history, literature and philosophy just annoyed him. Endless discussions without conclusive answers or proof to round it off and declare a winner.

"History, huh?" Schuldig commented, looking at the kid.

"The worst kind. Napoleonic wars," Omi explained.

"Are you nuts?" Schuldig sat up straight, looking as horrified as he felt. "Napoleon was the greatest war lord this side of antiquity. How can you call that boring?"

"Because it is," Omi answered sourly. "Give me maths or something logical instead, please!"

"You like maths and logics? Then you should love Napoleon, man! Haven't you ever heard about his theorem about equilateral triangles?" Schuldig was getting exited. "Strategy and logics was his middle name. If he hadn't been able to adapt the war strategies of Alexander the Great to modern times, and invent some of his own, the world would look very different today."

"What has that got to do with anything?" Omi whined.

"Everything!" Schuldig countered and waved impatiently at Omi, wanting him to hand over the book. Omi eyed him warily, but in the end he did as the German asked, letting go of the book as if it burned him when Schuldig grabbed it.

"Come on, kid, let me borrow your notepad as well and I'll show you what I mean," Schuldig urged, trying to sit up properly.

"Uh," he added, hesitating. "Would you mind putting another pillow behind my back? It's hard to sit up straight otherwise," he asked, looking none too comfortable with the request.

Omi stared at him for a few seconds before slowly getting up from his chair to nab one of the pillows Aya kept piled at the foot of the bed, probably for Schuldig's sake. He approached the German with slow, measured movements and quickly threw the pillow in between Schuldig's back and the bed. It landed askew and too far down, doing absolutely nothing for the redhead's posture.

"Oh, for crying out loud, kid, I'm not poisonous," Schuldig snapped irritably. "And I do shower occasionally, so touching me won't kill you. Do you want me to show you how to do this or not?"

Omi sighed and relented, grabbing the pillow and gently pushing Schuldig forwards so he could place it properly behind his back. The contact was very brief, but it still made Omi highly aware of the warm skin underneath the thin shirt the German was wearing, and, as he leaned closer, the smell of clean hair. Those concepts, which seemed oddly human, somehow seemed to clash with Omi's image of Schuldig as a hell-spawned monster, and he quickly retreated to his chair to stop himself from dwelling on it.

"Thanks. Now pull that chair up so you can see," Schuldig ordered, and Omi barely kept himself from snapping at the German not to boss him about. Instead, he meekly moved his chair closer to the bed and watched as Schuldig took command of his papers and pens and began drawing differently coloured lines on the white surface.

"Okay," the German began. "You know what an equilateral triangle is, right?" At Omi's nod, he went on. "Good. So, if we start by drawing one of those, and then construct equilateral triangles on all sides of_ that _one - you following? - the centres of all those triangles themselves will form an equilateral triangle."

Omi stared at the triangles as Schuldig carefully measured and drew lines back and forth with a ruler. When he was almost done, he went about finding the centres of the triangles and used a red pen to show how their centres formed yet another triangle.

"That does make sense," Omi admitted, looking at the drawing. "You saying Napoleon made this up?"

"Well, there's no actual proof that it was his theory, but he often gets credit for it," Schuldig shrugged, which looked weird since he could only use one shoulder.

"Either way, he was known for using this kind of logic when planning his battles - that and a big bunch of good spies, of course," Schuldig grinned. "You should go look it up; there's probably more interesting stuff to be found on the Internet that in any of those crappy textbooks."

Omi nodded enthusiastically, staring at Schuldig with wide eyes.

"How do you know all this stuff?" he asked, sounding almost breathless, and Schuldig smirked.

"I've been to school too, you know. Perhaps not exactly the kind you go to, but it was school nonetheless. Guess I must have picked up a thing or two, eh?"

Omi just nodded wordlessly and picked his notepad up, staring at it with flushed cheeks.

- - -

Ken couldn't believe it when Omi came down to dinner that evening, smiling, casually announcing "he's not all that bad, that Schuldig fellow". Yohji quietly concluded that the entire world had finally gone mad.

/tmp/uploads/1114304.doc


	11. Teddyfox

_A/N: Yes, we return! No, we haven't forgotten our boys. Life has just been too full of funerals, illness and other not good things to make us focus on writing lately, but we're getting back on top again. Also, our website is giving us problems; we can't update right now. My guess is that we need to go out and buy some software. Sigh. :(_

Once again, and I can never say this enough, thank to all our wonderful reviewers! Even when we think we're old news and forgotten, sweet new reviews pop up and make us all fuzzy and proud. I've saved every notification that's landed in my inbox, and sometimes when I'm in a bad mood, I simply scroll though them. You're all great. :)

Lastly, be warned: one member of Weiss will, uncharacteristically, be very nasty in this chapter. Don't beat him up too much about it – rest assured someone else will chew him out to your satisfaction. ;) Warnings for non-con. Here we go.  


**11. Teddyfox**

Finally, the shop was quiet. Aya had spent almost ten minutes trying to get various little schoolgirls out of his hair – literally – before finally being able to shoo them out and pull the metal shutter down. He knew he should have been more irritated; he normally was around closing time (honestly, having to answer the same, high-pitched, open-mouthed "oh, Aya-kun, you're hair is _soooo_ pretty. Is the colour really _real_??" eight times per hour would have done things to the most smooth, cheerful man's temper, and Aya was neither), but somehow he couldn't be bothered.

As he grabbed a broom from the back storage room and meticulously started sweeping leaves and mud into a small pile in the middle of the floor, he was acutely aware that Omi was watching him from where he was perched on the desk that held their cash registry. The teenager was supposed to be counting the till, but had apparently found a rag that he was idly rubbing the desk with as his wide eyes followed Aya around the store.

Aya chose not to comment the curious looks he was getting; not because he didn't want to talk to Omi, but rather because he had no answer for the question he knew was waiting for him. He _knew_ he was acting strange. He just wasn't sure of _why_.

Yes, the prospect of getting Aya-chan back had given something back to him that he hadn't had in a long time: hope. He had been so certain that once it had become obvious Kritiker couldn't protect her, he would leave Weiss and take her somewhere, somewhere where no one would be able to find her. Every waking hour, his thoughts had been single-handedly focused on that one thought. He would take her away. He would save her. He'd keep her safe.

And then he had lost her once. And then again. And his resolve had slowly begun to crumble. If he, despite his burning love for and fierce loyalty to his sister couldn't keep her safe, then perhaps he didn't deserve being her guardian. Perhaps she would have been much better off if he had left her in the care of someone else and just vanished, never causing her any trouble again.

It was far from the first time the thought struck him, but this time, he knew he had been right. While thinking he was protecting Aya-chan, he had in fact done anything but. Idiot that he had been, he had simply brought her into more danger by the kind of life that he led. That particular insight had led to more tortured nights, when it felt like he would choke on hopelessness and anger, and more self-contempt than Aya had ever experience. It was a slow spiral going downwards.

But now, things were different. Maybe he would actually get a second chance to prove himself worthy of being called Aya-chan's brother. Now, all his hopes and expectations were in the form of a certain redheaded German, currently buried under piles of blankets upstairs.

Schuldig had caught on a slight bout of fever during the morning, probably due to both the injuries and the fact that he had been severely chilled when coming to the shop. Aya had tried pleading with Yohji to at least look in on him every now and then, but he was unsure of whether it had worked since the blond had had the day off and didn't seem too keen on leaving his room in general nowadays.

The thought of Schuldig, however, brought Aya back to the dilemma he had been pondering before, under Omi's steady watch: why, in the name of God, did he put so much trust in Schuldig? And, stranger still, why did he _care_ so much about how the German was doing? Until a few days ago, Aya had hated the man, and the rest of Schwarz, with a passion such as to nearly exhaust him, but now… Something had definitely happened. Aya knew it, but what he still couldn't figure out was _what_.

He knew that that was the question Omi was dying to ask him. One quick look around confirmed that the teenager had finally given up pretending to polish the desk and had moved to actually counting the day's money, but every now and then, a sliver of blue would invariably fasten curiously on him.

The question _could_ have been easily answered, really, but Aya suspected there had been just a few drops of booze involved that evening he met Schuldig in the bar, since all he could remember was various impressions of the following events. He remembered the blinding, flashing lights from the dance floor, which had stood out in screaming contrast to the darkness of the bar where they had been sitting. He remembered the music, annoyingly loud in a way that left his body thrumming to the bass, and he vividly remembered his initial anger at finding Schuldig there, a feeling that had melted into resignation as he realised he couldn't care less about anything anymore – enemies, fighting, hoping…

What he couldn't remember, however, was what they had been talking about. All he knew was that he, in his dead-drunk state had been blubbering something about the hopeless situation with Aya-chan and how… had he talked about how he missed her?

And then Schuldig had looked at him, and that was the first time Aya noticed that the other man had blue eyes, _really _blue. Not that kind of washed-out, pale blue he had come to associate with most foreigners, but really clear, sapphire-like blue. The German had said something then, and the words had washed over Aya like cold and warm water at the same time.

The sensation had only lasted for a few seconds, but in that very instant, he had known that hating Schuldig would no longer be possible. The fact didn't even throw him, which was also surprising; it was just a fact, an undeniable, unchangeable fact. With only a few words, the German had managed to turn Aya's world upside down, and what was even stranger was that he didn't mind.

The only thing he minded was that he couldn't remember what those words were.

Sighing, he collected the leaves he had swept together and dumped then in the trashcan, silently promising himself to never drink again.

---

"Hey Kudoh, what brings you to my prison cell?" Schuldig drawled as Yohji carefully cracked the door open and poked a head inside. The sudden voice made the Japanese man start; he had thought Schuldig would be asleep from the way he was half-sitting, half-lying against the wall, propped up by numerous pillows.

"I had a moment of certifiable insanity and promised Aya to make sure you didn't die on him," Yohji sneered. He didn't like being startled; it set his teeth on edge. Not that his teeth weren't already on edge, but still. He didn't need an excuse to be nasty to Schuldig.

"How sweet of you," the German muttered, shifting his legs under the blankets. His eyes were a little glassy, Yohji noticed, and his face was flushed; it was obvious he still had a fever. "Don't worry. I won't die on him before keeping my promise, so you can stop playing Florence Nightingale," he said dismissively, obviously not wishing for Yohji's company any more than Yohji wished for his.

Perhaps that was what prompted the blond to move into the room and close the door behind him, stepping towards the bed. Schuldig watched him warily but didn't move, idly wondering if he had done something in particular to upset the man or if it was just his general presence that did it.

"So," Yohji began, "it seems you have Aya on a little leash nowadays, hmm?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it a leash," Schuldig said, in a rather tired voice. He must really be feeling crappy, Yohji thought. "After all, it's not like I've married him or something."

"Perhaps you should!" Yohji spat at him. "That would almost be less ridiculous than this. You have no idea what you're doing to him!"

"So enlighten me, because I would really like to know," Schuldig replied. "What _am _I doing to him?"

For a second, Yohji seemed lost for words and stared down at his feet before looking up again, fists clenching angrily by his side.

"All this fucking bullshit about wanting to _help_ him," he snarled. "Since when did you ever care about helping others, you little fuck?"

"I have my reasons. Not that they're any of your business," Schuldig stated calmly. One hand was reaching out for the bedside table, where a glass of water was sitting next to a jar of aspirin, but Yohji stepped up to him and smacked the hand away. Schuldig blinked up at him in surprise.

"Oh, but it _is _my business," Yohji stated, his voice almost a low purr now, and Schuldig began realising he could be in trouble. "I've seen the way he looks when he talks about you; like you're the best bloody thing that's ever happened in his miserable little life. _You_!"

He almost spat out the last word, and Schuldig recoiled a little from the venom in his voice.

"Relax, Kudoh," the German said, holding a hand up. "I don't know if he's got some small crush on me or something, but both you and I know I'm just a stand-in. As soon as he has his sister back, he'll drop me like rotten fruit. He's just holding on to me because he knows I can help him. Idol worship, you might call it."

Schuldig grinned, but the grin was quickly wiped off as Kudoh's hand connected with his face, sending his head bouncing back against the wall.

"Shut up!" the blond hissed and moved forward, grabbing a fierce hold of the fiery hair, yanking Schuldig's head back. Schuldig stared up at him and emitted an involuntary gasp, not because of the pain the grip caused, but because of the sudden onslaught of anger, despair and panic emanating from the other. It was like a heavy wet woollen blanket wrapping around him, smothering him. He tried to scrabble away, put some distance between him and the well of emotion, but he was trapped between Kudoh and the wall.

"What the_ fuck_ is your problem?" he panted, trying to grab Kudoh's wrist. Green eyes bore into his own, glinting with barely hidden malice.

"You feel this, don't you?" Kudoh asked, lips twisting in an unpleasant grin. The German made no reply, but it wasn't necessary. The enormous rush of feelings was making him feel nauseous, and it probably showed. Normally he would have been able to shut Kudoh out with little effort, but his defence was always shitty when he had been hurt; it was like his body needed all the energy for healing and didn't have time to bother with his mind.

"Good," the Japanese man went on, putting his hands on Schuldig's shoulders, making him moan in pain as two fingers pressed into his wound. He realised that this was no time to try and shake Kudoh off and instead complied as the blond pushed him down onto the mattress, forcing him to lie flat against the bed.

"Because I have a few things to tell you," Kudoh went on, and suddenly a _very _disturbing image flashed through Schuldig's mind. He bucked, trying to dislodge the blond, but the motion just made the hand press harder against his shoulder. Moaning, he tried to gather his wits instead and gain eye contact with the other man.

"Kudoh…" he tried but was rewarded with another punch to the face. He muttered a low curse and tried to shield himself from further blows, but the Japanese man was faster for once. Grabbing him by the hair again, he yanked Schuldig up into a sitting position with one hand, while the other was busy unzipping the worn-out jeans the blond was wearing.

"I want to know," Kudoh panted and yanked the pants down, exposing a semi-hard erection, "what it is that is so bloody fantastic about you, why Aya thinks you're so bloody _special_! Show me what it is you do to him, Schuldig, to make him fawn over you like some rabid fangirl."

To his amazement, Schuldig just stared at him and seemed to relax somewhat, eyes narrowing to glittering slits. There was no resistance in the full lips as he slowly pressed in between them, groaning at their warmth, but still he offered Schuldig a glare full of venom as he began thrusting none too gently. Schuldig in turn stared at him in something that looked like surprise.

"Yeah, that's right. For _two years_ I've tried to get just a smidgen closer to him, but no, he's always only had one thing on his mind. He's been so fucking blinded by the thought of protecting his sister that he couldn't possibly conceive the idea that there might be other things in life. And _you_, you little bastard!" Kudoh snarled.

He emphasized his words by a particularly vicious thrust that almost made Schuldig choke, but the German seemed to work around it, somehow. Not that it mattered to Yohji in the least. He was aware that his face was wet and burning now, but he had other things on his mind than what Schuldig thought of his tears.

Up until now, he had woken up every morning hoping that today might just be the day, the day when his stubborn, cold team-mate would accept the fact that there was someone who was willing to share his burden, that there was someone who _did _think he deserved to be loved and who would love to convince him of that in no uncertain terms. He had spent each day thinking that soon, there would be no need for the sleazy clubs and boring one-night stands in order to feel alive. He had spent nights offering to sit up with the beautiful redhead when he couldn't sleep, read comic strips from newspapers to him in the mornings to try and lighten his mood, all with one goal in mind. Soon, Aya would realise how much he loved him. But he had been wrong.

"You met him at some shoddy bar and managed to bag him the same night! And now you've somehow convinced him to keep you in the house despite the fact that all the rest of us _hate _having you here! You hear that? We _hate_ you!"

Yohji dug his fingers into Schuldig's hair again to keep his head steady as he pushed deeper inside his mouth.

"_I_ hate you! You've ruined everything! I've been trying for years and he never even looked my way once! Why the hell did he have to choose_ you_ of all people? Why not me? I_ love_ him, you fucking worthless bastard! You don't give a fuck about him! You have no _right_!"

He came, then, with a sudden ragged breath, but his hands didn't ease their grip on Schuldig's hair, and the German realised, not without a certain bout of trepidation, that Kudoh wasn't satisfied yet, despite his physical reaction. Fuck. This was going to get nasty.

He was more than surprised at the violent actions; during their fights, Kudoh had certainly always been quick to anger, but Schuldig had never before detected anything that indicated this kind of bloodlust. The man was like a hurt animal; bleeding but deadly, going directly for the throat of those who happened to be nearby.

It was a hopeless situation, and Schuldig knew it. One of the first things Fujimiya had made him do when he came to the shop was to promise never to use his mental powers on the others, and since his body was currently useless, he was stuck with the furious blond. It didn't matter much to him, though. He tried to speak, but his throat felt swollen and thick, and something in his face was throbbing dully.

[So get on with it, Kudoh. You want to fuck me, right? he sneered mentally, glaring up at the other man. But Kudoh wasn't listening; he was looking towards the door, and a look of panic began inching its way across his face.

"Fuck. _Fuck,_" he muttered and abruptly let go of Schuldig's hair. The German flopped down onto the bed with a muffled groan, and before he knew it, Kudoh had vanished out of the room, almost ripping the door of its holders in his hurry to get out. Confused, Schuldig rolled into a ball in the middle of the bed, trying to ease the pain in his abused shoulder. His head was aching, too, and he was fairly sure that that bastard had yanked a good handful of his hair out. Gingerly touching his lip, he realised it had been split open. Great.

He sighed, trying to make himself at least a bit less uncomfortable. He knew he had to get up eventually, but right now he was cold and it hurt too much to move.

_We __hate_ _you!_

The words echoed in his mind, and he winced. Schuldig, despite appearances, didn't much like being hated. He would settle for it if nothing else was offered, which was usually the case, but that didn't mean he appreciated it. In fact, he had begun hoping that at least half of the Weiss team wasn't so opposed to him anymore, but Kudoh knew them best, and there was a chance that his words hadn't been a lie.

Schuldig sighed. Fuck knew it would have made life with Weiss just a little easier if he didn't have to be nasty all the time, but… if that was what they wanted, it was a part that he was used to playing. Disappointed, he closed his eyes. In only a few minutes, he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

--

Omi wondered why Yohji came pelting out of Aya's room like his tail was on fire, but then realised that he must have set it off somehow by opening the flat door from the shop. He looked at the retreating blond and then, prompted by more than just instinct, headed for Aya's room to check on Schuldig. He opened the door just a crack and peered inside.

"Schuldig? Are you asleep?" he whispered.

There was no reply, so he opened the door fully and stepped inside. The room looked as neat as always; he knew Aya liked to keep his room in order. In fact, they all did, even Yohji. Their lives might be chaotic, but the fact that they could still keep their rooms in order gave them a transparent feeling off having at least some parts of their lives under some semblance of control.

The bed, however, looked a mess. The pillows were strewn across the floor around it, and the sheets were rumpled and askew. Schuldig lay rolled up in the middle of it all, his face hidden under his arms and lots of hair. 

_I wonder if he's been sick?_ Omi thought to himself and frowned. He tiptoed up to the bed and carefully touched Schuldig's back. The redhead moaned slightly and rolled over, making the boy jump in surprise. The German's face was still hidden by his hair, so Omi moved it aside gently, to see if he had awoken the man. The sight made him hiss.

Schuldig's face had been pale ever since he came to the shop, but now it was coloured by a vivid bruise that had formed across his eye, making the skin swell so that the eye was almost invisible. A thin trail of blood crossed his cheek and chin and had smeared the sheet where his face had been resting.

"Yohji-kun…" Omi muttered in rebuke. It hadn't come as a surprise to him, but what stunned him was the fact that his team mate would actually attack an unarmed man like that, knowing he couldn't – or, in Schuldig's case, really wasn't allowed to - defend himself.

Shaking his head, Omi decided to let the man sleep for now, quickly sneaking out of there and into his own room. He was back only seconds later, pressing something small and furry into Schuldig's arms before hurrying out a second time, not wanting the German to wake up and catch him at it.

With determined strides, he then marched towards Yohji's room. He didn't bother to knock, and found the surprised-looking blond standing on the balcony staircase leading down to the alley behind the shop. He was fully dressed, and had obviously been on his way to leave.

"Yohji-kun. I can't blame you for wanting to get out of here, but when you get back, you and I are going to have a long talk," he informed the older man. Yohji stared at him for a few seconds, green eyes shaded, but then he simply nodded.

"Anything you like, Omittchi," he said with a sigh. Then he shut the door behind himself and was gone.

--

Schuldig stirred slightly, staring down at a brown ball of fuzz that was huddled in his arms.

"What..." he began blurrily, but as he realised he was speaking to an empty room, he took a closer look at the fluffy thing. It turned out to be a well-worn, stuffed animal - a fox, to be precise. The sight made him grin a little, despite his aching face. He had a good hunch where the thing came from; and the loud mumbling in his mind only served to confirm his suspicions. Omi's mind was buzzing fervently, as if the boy actually wanted Schuldig to hear it, justifying his actions with the fact that as a teenager, he was far too old for stuffed toys anyway.

Schuldig was about to think to himself that if _Omi_ was too old for stuffed toys, then what the hell did he expect _him_ to do with it? Then he stared down at the toy's brown, slightly sad-looking eyes, and a pang of something unknown ran through him. Ruffling the flattened and hug-ruined fur, he sighed.

"I guess you're feeling a little discarded, huh, with what being thrown out by your master and all?" he muttered to the toy. "Don't worry. You're not the only one."

Clutching the fox to his chest, he rolled in on himself and drifted off again.

/tmp/uploads/1114304.doc


	12. Trouble, thy name is Yohji!

_A/N: __Yes, it's an update! Thanks to krimson for giving us a poke! Things have been ridiculous here lately; death in the family, computer crashed and expiring software. It's like someone wants us to _not_ write this fic. :/_

To move over to something completely different: an apology to those, though you were few, who became seriously offended by the last chapter. I know it's not like Yohji to be such a bastard, but let's face it, people, all the Weiss boys have it in them. They're killers. Sure, they kill for what they perceive to be the "right" reasons – and who doesn't?- but there is still that part of them ignoring the fact that they leave abandoned wives, children and parents in their wake. They would have to have that dark side somewhere in order to ignore this. Yohji was just the first one to let it out. These guys are far from stable. Though, don't worry. He'll get his. ;)

In other words: the chapter where everyone but Ken gets embarrassed. Enjoy!

Aya wondered at the silence as he came out of the shop. He knew Ken was out at soccer practise, but he'd expected to see either Yohji or Omi in the kitchen. No one was there, though; the house was actually eerily silent. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and some buns from lunch in case Schuldig was hungry and bounded upstairs, oddly eager to see his ill charge.

He opened the door quietly, tiptoed in when he noticed Schuldig was sleeping, and dropped the beers on the floor with a bang when he saw the bloodied lip and the black and blue eye.

"Huh... what?" Schuldig asked blearily, sitting up with a start as the noise jolted him out of his slumber. His face was hidden by a shock of hair, but the presence he could feel in the room was familiar enough.

"Fujimiya, what the hell...?" he groaned, raising a hand to rub at his sore jaw.

"What... what happened to you?"

Aya sounded stunned, shocked and paralyzed, and his mind radiated astonishment at the fact that an injured man in his charge could have been hurt. In their own house. By... by?

"…who?" he asked, his voice sounding hollow and faint.

"Oh... that."

Schuldig hauled himself up slowly and grimaced, clearing the hair from his face so he could see properly - well, as properly as he could; his left eye had apparently swelled shut by now.

"Kudoh was kind enough to pay me a visit while you were gone. Seems that soccer-boy is not the only one in the house who hates my guts," he commented wryly.

"Err... he...? He...?" Aya stared at him, stumped. For once he didn't know which direction to run in. He wanted to grab his katana and behead Yohji in thin slices, but he also wanted to heal and comfort Schuldig, who more than ever looked in need of some care. The result was a little dance that with a lot of practise may have earned him a place on the Lord of the Dance tour. In the back rows.

"Are you...?"

Aya was about to ask 'all right', but that seemed a moot question. "What can I do? Ice... yeah... I'll get you ice!"

"I'm fine," Schuldig said, waving a dismissive hand at him. "Just help me get in the bathroom; I need to clean up a bit. Look like shit," he added, the image of his tousled, bruised self rather vivid in Aya's mind.

"Of course," Aya said as if a bath was the most natural thing in the world for battered German redheads at such a time. "Why did he... what DID he do? I mean... is that..."

He swallowed heavily and pointed to some dried crust on Schuldig's chin, "…is that... his?"

"Sure as hell ain't mine."

Schuldig made a disgusted face and brought a hand to his chin, rubbing at the offending speck. 

Typical.

Aya suddenly hoped Ken and Omi wouldn't miss Yohji too badly, but he gritted his teeth and postponed the execution till he had helped Schuldig, having decided that that would at least have to be his first priority. He quickly stripped out of his clothes, throwing them in a corner. When he saw the half terrified look on Schuldig's face he quickly explained:

"To help you in the shower, love, just to help you... I wouldn't dream of... don't worry. Plus, it has the added advantage I can kill Yohji and wash his stinking blood off quickly."

"Uh... I don't think that killing him would be such a good idea. Might upset the team balance and all that, and fuck knows you guys are unbalanced enough already..."

Schuldig rambled on, doing his best to ignore the throbbing of his face, but also, more pointedly, the 'love' epithet that Fujimiya had just used on him. He thought - hoped - that it had just been pure instinct, an attempt to calm him down, but it seemed that one could never be too sure about his fellow redhead, and the thought worried him a little.

"That balance is sort of shot to hell already. Do you think I can work with a rapist on my team? And worse... he's violated someone he was supposed to take care of. I'm going to beat him to a pulp before I kill the sorry excuse for a son of a bitch."

Aya was seething with fury, barely containing it.

"Well, technically speaking I'm not _his_ charge," Schuldig pointed out and tried to shrug out of the t-shirt he was wearing, but his damn left arm refused to cooperate. "Don't worry about it, Fujimiya. I'm fine."

"I asked him to look after you, so you bloody well _were_ his charge, and stop wriggling around, I'll get you out of that t-shirt."

He carefully lifted Schuldig's arm free with calm, controlled moments that were in stark contrast to the tornado raging inside him. Without asking if Schuldig could walk he bent to pick him up, gently lifting him and cradling him in his arms, carrying him to the bathroom.

"_Jesus_! Fujimiya, put me down, for fuck's sake! I'm not your bride," the German snarled, caught between mortification and a want to laugh his head off. In the end, though, the hilarity of the situation won out, and he grinned carefully, kicking his legs back and forth.

"This is ridiculous, you know?"

"You're hurt," Aya said gravely, actually having to put up quite a brave fight to keep a smile from twitching at the corners of his mouth as he saw Schuldig's legs performing the silly little dance.

"Yes, mum," Schuldig agreed cheerfully, trying to pretend he was not blushing. He hadn't been carried by anyone since he was six, and he sure as hell hadn't expected to be so now, so he was determined to make the most out of it.

"Now stop squirming, I'm putting you in the tub," Aya announced as he bent to carefully place Schuldig in the bathtub, reaching up for the shower head, turning the water on to lukewarm.

"You don't have to put me in the tub, you moron. I only wanted to wash my face," Schuldig said half-gruffly, leaning his head back not to get water in his eyes.

Aya stared at him.

"You mean... he did that to you, and you don't want a bath? Well, I don't care. We're having one."

And with that Aya unceremoniously pushed Schuldig's shoulders forwards and climbed into the tub behind him, barely managing to spread his legs around the slender body and still make room for the both of them. He wrapped one careful arm around Schuldig's waist and with the other hosed him down with the warm water, starting at the muscled chest.

Schuldig stiffened a little at the gesture, more because it was unexpected than anything else. He had to admit that it felt damn good with a strong, warm body behind him, and that coupled with a mind that was anything but hostile made him relax and lean back a little. He almost started as the back of his head hit Fujimiya's shoulder, but a gentle caress to his hair told him he should stay where he was, so he let his eyes slide closed and relaxed, letting the warm water play over him.

"I'm washing your face now," Aya warned him, "so let me know if anything hurts."

He let the water beams slide up over the relaxed neck, his hand carefully shielding Schuldig's eyes as he washed away the blood and semen, praying to all the Gods he remembered from his childhood to keep his anger in check.

Schuldig, however, just made a soft little noise, and then a small gurgle as he managed to swallow some of the water. This was nice. His jaw was sore, but Fujimiya was careful and he didn't think the man would hurt him on purpose anyway. The sound of the water running filled his ears and made him almost limp, drowning out all else for a few precious minutes.

"Will you tell me what happened, please?" Aya whispered while gently washing the blood off the split lip. When Schuldig didn't answer he whispered again, directly into his ear, afraid the question might be offensive and that that might be the reason the German refused to answer.

"I don't want details, just tell me what he did generally. I need to know what he was thinking. Try to understand him. Schuldig? Schuldig? _Schu_?"

--

Schuldig was half asleep already, the warmth and comfortable position he was in as effective a lullaby as anything he had ever tried before. It surprised him to a certain extent; most of the time he had trouble sleeping and had tried a variety of drugs and drinks that might help, but all they did was make him feel like more crap. But this... this was nice... the water, warmth, the feeling of Fujimiya behind him, soft lips moving against his ear...

Hang on. Lips moving...? He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the other man, a strange feeling of foreboding creeping up inside him.

"Sorry... did you say something?" he asked hesitantly.

"What? Say something? Of course I did. Are you trying to ignore my question?" Aya asked, looking more puzzled than angry.

"Err, no. I... I didn't hear it," Schuldig admitted with a sigh. "Could you... repeat it?"

"I asked what he did to you. Did you really not hear any of it? I was whispering directly into your... Schu!"

Schuldig stared at him in trepidation, knowing that thinking Aya wouldn't realise what this meant would be to seriously insult the man's intelligence.

"Are you… _deaf_?"

"Congratulations, Sherlock," Schuldig said glumly, turning away. "Yes, I am. Only on one ear, though."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Aya asked, obviously insulted that he wasn't trusted with such information by a man he was supposed to save the life of. "What's the big secret? If you don't tell me such things, how can I take them into consideration? Anything else? Do you have aids? Tuberculosis? Flat feet? Are you farsighted? Flatulent?"

"I just have hopeless hair."

The rant made Schuldig's mouth quirk a little, and he turned again to wink at Fujimiya.

"It's not a secret. I just never have a problem with it, that's all. I'm used to it now, and I can hear people anyway," he explained, tapping his head with a fingertip for emphasis.

"You sure didn't hear _me_! Or was that just convenient?"

"No, I guess I was just too sleepy. Sorry. It's not a big deal, really."

"My question was, what happened?"

Aya meant the attack by Yohji, he hadn't really meant to dig around in Schuldig's past asking about the deafness, but the answer made him listen attentively anyway.

Schuldig shrugged. He knew what Aya wanted to hear right now and saw no reason not to indulge him.

"A kid at the school I went to lost it and tried to escape the same day they brought me in. The guard who was holding me shot him, and the gun went off right next to my ear. Haven't heard a thing on it since."

"What...? Brought you in where?" Aya was intrigued. Weiss knew bits and pieces about Schwartz, but no agent had ever quite gotten the full picture.

"Rosenkreuz. The infamous training camp for paranormals like me. It's run by Esztet, the organisation I work... well, used to work for."

Schuldig didn't feel particularly bad about spilling that information; the name of Rosenkreuz was widely known, but no one had been able to find the place even so, so he didn't think it would matter much.

"I have heard about it. Not much, though," Aya admitted. "How old where you when you were brought there?"

"Six."

The reply was clipped, clearly indicating that it was nothing Schuldig wished to discuss any further.

"SIX? SIX years old? The bastards brought you into a criminal training facility when you were SIX?"

Aya was half out the tub, mentally pulling himself down by his hairs not to upset Schuldig further but his heart was pounding wildly in his chest at the outrage.

"Yeah. I was rather young, though. Most other people were around ten or twelve, so I guess I was the exception."

Schuldig smiled wryly, mostly to hide his surprise at the Japanese man's reaction.

"'People'? That's what they called you? Ten year old 'people'? I call them kids," Aya grumbled, but calmed down a little as the tub refilled with warm water as he slid back down. He hadn't plugged it, but frankly his butt was crammed so tightly into the hole that it was as good as plugged. 

"Yeah, well... not much time to be a kid in a place like that," Schuldig admitted. "Look, why are you so on edge tonight? Shit happens, to lots of people. There was just more shit happening to me, that's all."

"Not in MY care!" 

Aya emphasized that with a kiss to Schuldig's jaw, as if to apologize for his mood.

"Hmpf. If you say so. Now, are you going to fly out of the tub any more? Because if you're not, I'd like to lie here for a while. Without being jolted."

"Sorry. Sorry. Would you like me to wash your hair?" Aya offered in recompense.

"You're a brave man," Schuldig said with a small smile. "Yeah, if you would. It's still kinda hard for me to reach it. If you're not out of there in half an hour, though, I promise to call for the others to come help you," he added with a grin.

"Thanks, but I've had all the help from my team mates I need tonight," was the grim reply.

Aya was still grumbling as he grabbed the shampoo and slowly lathered up the bright orange hair, using his knee to push Schuldig a bit forwards, stabilizing his hold. He did feel some knots but managed to massage them out before turning the showerhead back on, rinsing it out.

"I assume conditioner is compulsory?"

"Hmmm," was all Schuldig could say. The fingertips against his scalp made small shivers run up and down his back, and he pressed into the touches as much as he could. He couldn't even remember when someone had last washed his hair, and it felt good.

Aya went on, adding nearly half the bottle of conditioner since he had a hunch he'd never get a brush through the strands otherwise. He massaged it in gently, rinsing it out thoroughly. He then turned off the water as the tub was filled to the brim with soft, soap soaked warm water, and leant back against the wall, letting Schuldig's head fall back on his shoulder.

"How's the pain?" he asked, making sure to direct his question to the German's good ear.

"'S okay..." Schuldig drawled, opening a sleepy eye to peer up at him. "Am used to it... don't worry."

It was meant to sound reassuring, but as soon as the words had left his lips, Schuldig realised that it had been anything but.

"I wish I could..." Aya's fingers played with the now soft bangs, but his voice trailed off.

"Could what? Get used to it?"

"Give you a life without pain," Aya explained.

"Heh," Schuldig snorted.

"I know, I know. Not for the likes of us, huh?"

Aya sighed heavily, only too well reminded of the task at hand; squaring things off with Yohji.

"Fujimiya, knock it off," Schuldig grumbled. "You need him when we go to get your sister, and besides, if you make a habit of killing men who are in love with you, it's no wonder you were a virgin before me."

"Will you stop reading my mi... what the_ fuck_ are you talking about?"

Aya made waves that would have made a Titanic director proud as he flailed about in the tub.

"Shit! Stop that, you idiot, you're flooding the bathroom!"

"It's my bathroom; I'll flood it if I want to. But what the blazing holyswords are you talking about? In love with me? Have you lost your last German marble in there?"

Aya growled as he tried to get Schuldig to turn around to look him in the eye, and Schuldig did so, not without some trouble since the tub wasn't exactly made for two. He stared at the other man.

"You heard me. Kudoh loves you. That little flip he just had was simply to get even with me since I have apparently stolen something he wants."

--

Aya sat dumbfounded, mouth open, staring at a drop of water running down the opposite bathroom wall, his mind reeling in so many directions it didn't know which way was Sunday.

"Yeah. Surprise, huh?" Schuldig said, his voice a little softer now. "Listen, from what he told me... it's been going on for quite a while. Why don't you go have a talk to him? He's not a bad catch, you know."

He tried a wry grin, but it just wouldn't work. The strangely affectionate attention that Fujimiya... that _Aya_ had been lavishing him with lately had felt good, and he was loathe to lose it to someone who had shoved his cock down his throat a little while ago, but... there was no denying it would be a much better deal for Aya.

"'Catch'? What do you mean?" 

Aya was royally confused by the mere idea that Yohji, who went through women like he did underwear, should entertain the thought of sexual intercourse with a man, much less love simply a ludicrous undertaking.

"Well, he's not bad looking. And I guess he's nice generally, right? So, he wouldn't be bad for you. That's all."

"I'm not... I mean, he's not. No! I mean that I am not... available. I'm..."

Aya struggled to explain what he felt; the very sudden absolute surety, yet total confusion, that he belonged to Schuldig.

"You're... not?" Schuldig asked curiously, a small flutter of hope growing inside him despite his best efforts to quench it.

"I'm...we're... _us_!" the Japanese man clumsily elaborated while folding both arms around Schuldig, burying his nose in the German's shoulder, just above the water level. His urgency to kill Yohji had waned, and he felt almost drunk with feelings after all those years without any and then this onslaught.

"Ehm... Fuji... Aya, you... not me. You wouldn't want me," Schuldig tried to assure him.

"I kind of have you," Aya shrugged, accepting the fact with quiet ease.

"Yeah, but... I don't think I'm marriage material," the German understated. "Seriously... you've been... nice to me while I've been here, more than I had expected. You shouldn't be stuck with me just because I said I'd help you, though."

He was probably blushing a bit, but there was no helping it. The attention was nice, but he knew better than to think it was anything but misguided gratitude, and the sooner Aya realised that, the better.

"I _want_ to be stuck with you." Aya announced in his usual gruff, rather less than romantic, manner.

"..."

For once in his life, Schuldig was completely lost for words. He stared at Aya, trying to make sense of what the man was saying. He rather thought he had the meaning pinned down, but... that just couldn't be.

"Aya... you wouldn't want me as a lover," he tried.

"So, you suggest I should hire you as a driver? Bodyguard? Cook? Nah... I think you'll be better off as my lover."

Aya managed a smile as he pecked Schuldig's shoulder, managing not to blow bubbles beneath the water surface.

"I'm serious, dammit" Schuldig almost yelled at him, slamming a fist into the tiled wall. It hurt, but it didn't matter.

"Shit, Aya, you don't know the first thing about me! You don't know what kind of shit I've been doing, and you claim you want me as your lover? Are you really that homicidal or just stupid??"

"Probably just stupid," Aya allowed. "Besides, I don't think feelings come with a stamp of approval from faculties of higher learning. I can't help that I want you, ok? You're here, I'm obviously queer, so get used to it."

"You have no idea what the fuck you're doing," Schuldig growled. "I'm used goods and you could do better. I don't know if you've realised, but the reason that what your little loverboy just did to me didn't really bother me is because that was hardly news. I've had the same thing done to me every day for the last twelve years, and that has been by those who have been nice about it. You really think you want someone like that??"

--

"He's not my loverbo..."

And at that point Aya's mind started doing maths combined with lewdness and he nearly lost his lunch. "You've been... what he did to you... _twelve years_?" he stuttered, hugging Schuldig even tighter. "Weren't you just a kid then? I mean, how old are you, anyway?"

"I'm 22. So?" Schuldig asked and stiffened in the embrace as Aya did the maths. Ten years old. Schuldig had been ten the first time he…

"You were a kid... prostitute? That's what they made you do at that place?"

Aya's voice was shaking. The one thing he could simply not countenance was child abuse, and in his mind he was already strangling the perpetrators slowly.

"No. That was when they threw me out," Schuldig gritted out through clenched teeth. He wasn't exactly happy to tell Aya this crap, but it was better that he found out now, before...

"So, that was how you survived?" Aya was hugging Schuldig so tight that the water was getting a little wavy again, Aya's face pressed against Schuldig's shoulder to cleverly mask the salty tears.

"Well, yeah. It was the only way people wanted me, so... sometimes it was for the company as well, not just money."

He tried to shrug, but it proved impossible with Aya latched onto him, and suddenly his throat was starting to feel uncomfortably tight. He swallowed and swallowed, but it didn't help; it only got worse.

"If you don't cry, I will," Aya announced quietly, stroking the wild hair out of Schuldig's eyes.

"Piss off," Schuldig snarled. Better Aya than him. It was an odd sensation, though; to have another man sitting there, clutching him and shedding tears over a life he himself had never had the energy to cry over. It wasn't odder, however, than that he stayed in the embrace until long after the water had gone cold.

---  
Yohji opened the backdoor next to the shop, holding his breath, sniffing for signs of a late dinner – and possible leftovers. Sensing none he hurried upstairs. He knew he'd promised Omi a talk when he got back, but he really wasn't up to it. Too much whiskey down his gullet made him unstable, and his head was banging. His mouth was dry, and his heart aching. He slunk in to his room, fell down on the bed fully dressed and cursed the day he had been born.

"Good morning to you too, Yohji-kun," Omi smiled from where he sat on the couch. He closed his laptop and turned sleepy blue eyes to his drunken friend.

Yohji's skin seemed to jump off his body and make a dash for the window as his muscles belatedly tried to follow. He sat upright, looking like he wasn't quite sure whether he had screamed or not.

"What the blazes are you doing in here at this time of night, you pissing little excuse for a motherfucking rugrat?" he bellowed, half in shock.

"You promised me a little talk, remember?" Omi said and put the computer away, pulling his legs up under him, not caring about the verbal abuse. While Yohji could sound bad if you spooked him, Omi knew that the man usually had a temper that was as mild as Aya's was fierce. "You weren't planning on standing me up, were you?"

"It's past fucking three in the morning. You should be in bed and not stalking innocent neighbours. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Scamper off to bed, kid. I can't even think straight right now." Yohji cradled his pounding head in his hands, his eyes getting used to the darkness now.

"I'm always up at this hour," Omi dismissed him. "There's a glass of water and some aspirin on your bedside table. Take those, go clean up and then come over here." He patted the seat next to him, but the seemingly friendly gesture wasn't really an invitation.

"You little tyrant," Yohji growled as he never the less happily downed the painkillers. "What do you mean you're always up at this hour? You're twelve! You should be asleep!""I would be if any of you guys could be bothered doing the research for a change," Omi pointed out, ignoring the jibe about his age. As frustrating as it was, being small and cute seemed to release a strange instinct in people to ignore the fact that he was almost a grown-up, instead making them want to pinch his cheeks and give him a lollipop no matter what he said. Some days he seriously thought of yelling at people that he was a highly normal teenage boy, and that the only kind of lollipops he was interested in did _not_ come in cherry flavour. But he also didn't wish to give people a heart attack, so he kept quiet and kept on looking cute.

"Well... you're best at it." Yohji waved vaguely in Omi's direction, dismissing that issue. "Guess we have better talk then." He groaned as he stood and stretched, striding over to his little bar, pouring a drink before joining Omi on the couch. He didn't even think to offer him one since it was all alcoholic.

Omi rolled his eyes in exasperation and grabbed the drink from Yohji's listless hands, downing half of it and slamming it down on the table before offering the older man his sweetest smile.

"Right, then. Talk," he said cheerfully. "You can start by telling me exactly what the hell you did to Schuldig today - no, scratch that. I want to know _why_."

"Why do you even care? He's scum. He's here. Isn't that enough?" Yohji examined his vastly depleted drink carefully.

"Yohji-kun..." Omi sighed. "Exactly why is it that we don't like Schwarz?"

"Because they're assholes and they kick the shit out of us?" Yohji suggested.

"That, too. But I'm serious, Yohji," Omi went on. "Why don't we like Schwarz? Because they're evil bastards without remorse, right?"

"That's a big part of it, yeah," Yohji reluctantly admitted, sipping at his drink.

"But we're not Schwarz. So what would you call forcing yourself on a wounded, defenceless man...?"

Omi tried to tread carefully, but it was difficult when being so angry. He didn't want to drive Yohji into the ground, but he did want the stubborn man to acknowledge the severity of what he had done.

Yohji's jaw hung open as he stared at Omi. "You're telling me that he told you what happened... and you actually give a shit?" Yohji felt physically ill, but he wasn't sure if it was the drink or his pounding guilty consciousness.

"He didn't tell me. I'm _eighteen _now, Yohji-kun. I know cum when I see it, and if I see it on the face of an unconscious man in Aya's bed, along with a bruise the size of Brazil, I can put two and two together," Omi stated primly and almost didn't blush.

The statement had a rather unexpected reaction; Yohji ran to the bathroom and threw up. For a long time. Omi sighed. This was going to take all morning.

Eventually, though, Yohji came back in, sweating profusely and looking very pale. He poured himself a large vodka and flopped down on the couch again next to Omi. "Sorry," he just said as he sipped to rinse his mouth.

"It's not me you should apologise to," Omi pointed out. "So I take it you're not comfortable with what you've done after all?"

"Not really," Yohji whispered into to his vodka glass.

"Then why did you do it? It's definitely not something I expected from you," Omi said softly and touched his arm.

"He... he... he's got what I should have," Yohji slurred in to his drink. Omi was a little surprised at the easy admission, but he wasn't about to complain.

"Aya-kun?" he asked quietly.

"You're too bloody smart for your own good," Yohji snarled at him

"Thank you." Omi moved his hand so that his arm was draped over Yohji's shoulders, scooting a little closer.

"I can't have a team that is falling to pieces because of unrequited love, Yohji-kun. If you love Aya-kun, why don't you just tell him so?" he asked softly.

Yohji turned towards Omi and raised an eyebrow. He sniggered under his breath, a bitter smile curling his lips. "And you don't think _that_'ll split the team? He'll either kill me or break my heart. I couldn't stay either way."

"You should give him a chance, Yohji-kun," Omi said with a kind smile. "He's more understanding than you might think."

He knew that all too well himself, having been on the receiving end of Aya's understanding once just when he needed it the most and had expected it the least. The redhead's simple words then were still a great comfort to him sometimes, and he would replay them over and over in his mind when he felt like he needed it.

_"You are not Takatori Mamoru... you are Tsukiyono Omi."  
_  
It had felt good, then, to have someone be so certain of that as Aya had seemed, and Omi had learned that night that there was more to Aya than met the eye. If only Yohji could see the same thing.

"Oh, I've given him a chance. I've given him zillions of chances. He's ignored them, trampled on them, cut them into thin slices. But Schuldig... he just waltzed in there and took my Aya." Yohji gave himself a mental kick when he felt a tear trickle down his cheek.

"Yohji-kun... you of all people know that Aya-kun isn't exactly that easy to approach, but he's human just like the rest of us. Even though I agree that he doesn't always recognise it himself," Omi added, smiling a little. "But he needs other people, too, you know; he's probably just scared of it. Look at what's happened to all those he love, His parents are dead and his sister in a coma. Perhaps he's just scared of letting anyone else close in case they, too, get injured."

Yohji actually laughed a little. "So I should just hope he'll love Schuldig to death?"

"No, silly." Omi swatted at his arm. "I'm saying you should show him that you won't go away. I think that's what he's scared of."

"Ha! He's not scared of anything." Yohji snorted. "He's snug as a bug all cuddled up with his lunatic, psychopathic lover! I was too late. I thought... I thought... he didn't really care... well, at least that he preferred women, but mostly that he didn't care at all. And look at him now. Monsieur luuurve! Fawning over that sick bastard all the time. Did you know he'd actually asked me to look in on him today? That was just too bloody much."

He downed the considerable amount of vodka in his glass.

"And why do you think he's so snug with a partner who is nearly invincible...?" Omi pointed out carefully.

"What do you mean invisible? The towering carrot-top up there is very much bloody visible."

"_Invincible_, Yohji-kun. The four of us sure couldn't even ever make a dent in him, and it wasn't for lack of trying."

"Ooooh...you meant in_vin_cible!" Yohji shook his head, and Omi had to resist an urge to smack him. 

"I may just be a tad drunk, kid, don't mind me. I dented him... dented him good," Yohji added.

"None of us were even close. Not any of the times we've fought him," Omi insisted. "Ken managed to graze him once, that time when he... stepped on your head, remember?" Omi said, trying not to giggle. It hadn't been funny then, but right now it just sounded so silly.

"But that's it. Yohji-kun, he knows what people are going to do to him before they do it, because he can hear them think it. I can't think of any way around that."

"So you think Aya is staying with him because he can't be killed?" Yohji snorted. "Heck... I can do that. I have no intention of getting killed anytime soon."

"I think that may be once of the reasons, yes. But I also think there's something more. What, I don't know. Maybe they're just a good match." Omi shrugged. "They sure seem to have the same sunny disposition."

"You're not helping, kid," Yohji growled.

"I'm sorry. But I still think you should talk to Aya-kun. What you did to Schuldig was not like you, Yohji-kun. If Schuldig - and Aya-kun - is a problem to you, you have to work it out. For the team's sake, if nothing else. But..."

He tightened his hold on Yohji's shoulders and pulled him into an almost-hug.

"I want you to be happy, too."

It was silly, Yohji thought, but the embrace was warm, and Omi hadn't torn him to pieces like he had expected, so to he utter embarrassment he hugged Omi close and began to sob like a love lost teenager.

"There, there," Omi hushed, feeling a little awkward. But Yohji had kept him company on many sleepless nights before when Omi had had nightmares, and it was only fair to return the favour, so he rocked his team mate gently, waiting for the storm to subside.

"Talk to Aya-kun, Yohji. And apologise to Schuldig. Perhaps things aren't as bad as they seem right now."

"How can I apologize? What I did was unforgivable," Yohji sobbed.

"At least try. I don't know what any of them will say, but you've got to do what's right, Yohji-kun. Even if you can't have Aya the way you want him, don't throw away his friendship."

"Would you... would you please help me? Talk to them in the morning, tell them I want to apologize. Would you? Please?" Yohji almost wailed.

"Yes, yes, okay. I will," Omi relented. He had always found it hard denying Yohji anything, and now it was more difficult than ever, so he didn't even bother trying.

"Yohji-kun, you shouldn't be alone tonight. I'll get my blankets and sleep on the floor, is that okay?" he then said, gently disentangling himself from the embrace.

"Yeah... unless you want to lie in the bed? I mean... I'm not gonna touch you or anything, don't worry. That's not why..." Yohji blushed, horrified of what Omi may think of him. "But the bed is big…"

"Don't worry. I know you don't do twelve-year-olds," Omi smiled teasingly. "That would be more comfortable than on the floor. Thanks, Yohji-kun."

"Good. Wanna borrow a toothbrush?" Yohji offered as he dug out two fresh pyjamas for them.

"Nah, I brushed hours ago. I'll just..." Omi yawned and shrugged out of his clothes, happy to be rid of them after having spent the entire day and most of the night as well in them, and slid into the pyjamas. They were way too big for him, making him giggle as he almost drowned in soft fabric.

"I'm just gonna brush." Yohji burped, keeping up a nearly relieved conversation from the bath room. "I guess it's a good job it's Sunday tomorrow. That'll give Aya all day to cut me up in nice, neat little squares and skewer me into floral arrangements."

"Not unless Schuldig does away with you first and makes your brain dribble out your ears. Eww." Omi wrinkled his nose and sat down on the bed, stretching.

"There is that. Always look on the bright side of life, huh kid?" Yohji finished up in the bedroom, turned the lights out and hurried in to the bed. "I'm freezing. Hope you've warmed the covers a bit." 

He slunk in next to Omi, shyly putting an arm around him. "Just for warmth," he explained.

"Of course."

Omi was glad that it was dark so Yohji couldn't see his flushed face, but... there was something undeniably wonderful about how the tall, lean body felt under his touch, and the way Yohji smelled; smoke, alcohol and soap, a strangely pleasant mix that made Omi's head spin just a little.

Yes, darkness was good. Especially when Yohji wasn't the only one with things to hide in it.


	13. The Missing

_A/N: __Yup, it's been forever. Sorry about that! We haven't forgotten our boys, it's just been a rather busy year, with personal tragedies and joys that have kept us occupied. The sweet reviews have kept pouring in, though, and I guess the flattery got to me in the end. :) So, here is the unlucky chapter 13. I hope you enjoy._

**CHAPTER 13**

**The Missing **

"Aya. Can I have a word with you, please?"

The quiet voice almost had Aya flying out of bed. He hadn't heard the door open, and one quick glance at the alarm clock confirmed that this was way before even his usual getting-up time.

What the hell?

"Yohji?" he asked in confusion and slowly disentangled himself from Schuldig, sitting up. Yes, it was Yohji standing in the doorway, fully dressed in jeans and a shirt and with his hands clasped in front of himself as if he was a schoolboy that had been sent to the principal's office.

"Isn't this the time when you usually go to bed?" Aya asked sarcastically and heaved himself out of the bed, padding over to get his robe while trying hard to ignore the way the blonde's eyes widened at the sight of his rather unclad self.

Yohji shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

"No wonder." The remark came out a little sharper than he had intended it to, but Aya was still angry and not really in the mood for this right now. Still, if Yohji had gotten up at this hour to talk to him, he must be serious about it and probably deserved a chance, he thought reluctantly.

Aya hurriedly finished dressing and, at Yohji's beckon, followed the other man downstairs, firmly closing the door to his room. As they padded into the kitchen, he noted that there was already coffee brewing; two mugs standing on the counter.

"I figured you might want some," Yohji began and grabbed the pot, holding it up questioningly towards Aya, who nodded curtly, leaning against the kitchen sink with crossed arms. He didn't know if he cared about what the blonde had to say, but he figured there was no harm in it. In fact, it might even be interesting to see if Yohji could come up with any sort of passable excuse for what he had done.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_It was just like any other evening. Since it was winter, it was dark outside, and every lamp in the little house was lit. The boy was curled up by his mother's side, the flickering blue light of the television washing over them._

He savoured this moment. It was slightly past his bedtime, and in a few minutes, when his father had managed to put Julia to sleep again, he would come down to get his son and put him as well in bed. It was rare that he was allowed up this late, but since Julia had been having bad dreams, his parents had figured that he might as well stay up until she slept again or she would just wake him.

But now, all seemed quiet upstairs, so he knew what was coming. Sighing, he snuggled into the familiar warmth next to him, wishing he was older so he could stay up later and spend more time with his parents.

Nothing had prepared him for the sudden presence in front of him. The man was just suddenly there, and his mother screamed, too, when she saw him.

The boy never really understood what happened. His mother was about to stand and push him in behind her, and he could hear the thundering sound of his father running down the stairs to see what had happened; could even see him as he was halfway into the room before the strange man raised his hand.

And the world… stopped. That was the only way he could describe it. His mother froze in her movements, and so did his father. It was as if they were in a movie and someone had just pressed the pause-button. The man, however, was still moving, beckoning to him with one gloved hand, and he noted with mounting panic that they were the only ones who could move.

"Come with me, child," the man said slowly, and the boy shook his head, trying to hide behind his mother at the same time as he tugged desperately at her shirt to make her move again. He could feel his head spinning with panic, and along with it that familiar pressure that was slowly building between his eyes, only now it wasn't slight and tingling like it used to; it was fierce and heavy and painted the insides of his eyelids with streaks of red.

"Yes…" the man said, sounding almost delighted. "You have great powers, boy. You are just what we need. Come with us."

The man reached out for him, and the pressure inside his head exploded out of him like a sharp needle, plunging through the stranger. The man stumbled and fell, groaning, but was soon up again, smiling a slightly strained smile.

"I have a feeling that is not all you can do. Where you holding back, child?"

The boy refused to answer, but of course he had been. He knew that the strange feeling in his head could hurt others if he just let it, and he always tried to make sure that he didn't let it get out of hand. This time, it had felt stronger than usual; he was frightened and not really in control.

The man bowed his head a little and mumbled something, scrunching up his face.

"You're scared. You really shouldn't let your powers loose like that, you know. They can end up hurting someone. Just look at your mother there."

Gasping, the boy turned his head to stare at his mother, whose face was contorted in agony. Wave after wave of that pulsating feeling was still flowing out of him, and he realised with horror that it was flowing into her. Screaming, he pressed his hands against his temples to make it stop, make it stop moving, but to no avail.

"Easy, child. Panicking will only make it worse," the man said slowly, and he tried to stop, he really did, but the more he tried, the more his head throbbed. His mother was looking at him now, but her eyes were blank and empty and her body was shaking, mouth slack.

"Mom?"

There was no reply. He tried again, yanking fiercely at her arm, and she folded like a jack-knife in front of him, hitting the carpeted floor with a soft 'thud'. Another noise followed, and he looked up in panic only to see the limp body of his father come rolling down the stairs, landing at the foot in a terrible, wrong-looking mess of limbs.

He shot to his feet, tears rolling down his cheeks, and looked from one to the other, not knowing who to run to. They both needed him, he had to help…

It hit him then, what he had to do. He could feel his heightened reflexes kicking in as they suddenly flung him up the stairs and into his room. The man was either startled by his speed or just too slow to keep up as he was already by his sister's bed by the time he heard the heavy footsteps coming after him.

He yanked the bedcovers aside and grabbed a small arm, tugging at it.

"Julia, wake up, we've got to go, hurry!" he shouted, wincing as he actually pulled his sister out of her bed and onto the floor. She would probably yell at him for it, but he didn't care.

It slowed him down, though, and in less than two seconds, a huge shadow was blocking the doorway. Seeing as his only escaped was blocked, he tried to shield Julia with his own body, pulling her onto his lap and leaning over her.

"Go away! Leave us alone!"

"I can't do that, boy. Now, calm down so we can talk."

The cool response only made him angry, and he felt yet another power surge run through him. Julia yelped, and he stared down at her only to find her face scrunched up in pain.

"Julia! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

"You cannot control your powers, child; there is no use trying," the man interrupted, and all hell broke lose.

His head felt like it was exploding and he clutched it in one hand, pressing Julia closer with the other. Small hands started to scrabble to get a grip on his arms, and as he screamed, he realised that Julia was screaming, too.

He released his death grip on her then, only to scream again. There was blood dribbling out of his sister's ears, her nose, her mouth and her eyes, staining her reddish blond hair. The small body twitched in his embrace one, twice, and then went slack, but the blood kept dripping and her blue eyes went blank as he shook her.

"'hann…" she mumbled softly, and he stared at her. She was still too young to be able to pronounce his name properly, and 'Hann' was what she always called him.

"My name is Johann, silly," he said, sobbing, but he already knew that she couldn't hear him. She would never hear it ever again.  


-----------------------------------------

They both remained quiet as Yohji poured the coffee, handing one mug to Aya and grabbing his own with unsteady hands. Yohji gulped down a couple of sips, not caring that it burned, before grabbing a chair and pulling it up to where Aya stood, looking even colder than usual in the scant light from the kitchen lamp.

Yohji turned the chair around and sat down on it, turning tired eyes upwards to meet Aya's violet ones.

Like a sinner kneeling in front of the altar, Yohji thought, thinking the image strangely befitting.

"I… I thought I'd have Omi talk to you before I did, but… I figured I'd better do it myself. I just wanted to say that… I'm sorry."

Yohji's voice was quiet and completely lacked its usual spark, and he twisted the mug in his fingers, not knowing how to begin.

"I'm not the one you should apologise to," Aya pointed out coldly, shifting his feet.

"Yes, you are."

Yohji risked a quick glance up at him but averted his eyes again.

"You're my friend, and I hurt you, too, with what I did. I'll apologise to Schuldig when he wakes up, but I wanted to talk to you first. I…"

He paused again. This wasn't easy. Normally, it was Yohji who people were begging to stay. He was the one who controlled the show, who did the lovin' and the leavin'. He had never had the need to ask anyone for anything; it was usually landed right in his lap with a mere blink of an eye or wink of a finger, but now… now he was the one begging, and Aya was the one running things. The only relief he could find in the humiliation it meant was that Aya was probably as uncomfortable in his new role as Yohji was.

"I didn't know what I was doing," he finally admitted, staring down at his bare feet. "I… I thought I had been making my feelings rather clear to you, but you always seemed to ignore it. I thought… I was starting to think that it was because you… you know, didn't swing that way. And then he came along, and you seemed so chummy with him right away!"

Aya remained quiet, but his eyes had softened somewhat, gotten just slightly rounder, something Yohji assumed meant he was a little curious, at least. Seeing an opening where he had least expected one, he kept talking, not really caring if it made much sense as long as Aya got the general idea. And in fact, what came out of his own mouth rather surprised him.

"Can I be with you? I mean, I don't mean… in that way."

Yohji was feeling seriously nervous now, fingertips whitening around the coffee cup as he stared down into the dark, sloshing liquid. What the hell was he saying? But his mouth went on:

"I just want to… to be with you guys. I want to… to be where you are, and if that involves him, then fine. I'd rather be with him and you than not being around you at all. I'm… I'm_ lonely_, Aya."

He blushed as he said it, but still managed to grind the words out, avoiding Aya's eyes all the time.

"I'm fucking lonely, and I want to be around someone. It doesn't have to be sexual. Hell, for all I know, Schuldig will never consider me that way, and I'm fairly sure you won't, but couldn't we just… I don't know, have dinner a couple of nights a week, or rent a movie… anything? Just hang out?"

Aya regarded Yohji for a long time without speaking, but finally said: "I guess we could do that. I'll have to talk to Schuldig, though. You did molest him, Yohji, and I'm not so sure he'll be too keen on having you around."

"I know."

Yohji winced, as if the memory alone hurt.

"Shit, I'm sorry about that. I'll try to apologise once he wakes up, but he might just kill me right away. Can't even blame him."

"Me neither. Did you know he was abused as a child?"

Aya dropped his little bomb in a casual voice despite the bile that churned in his stomach at the mere thought. He hadn't been sure whether or not to tell Yohji about that particular fact for fear of given away information Schuldig would rather keep to himself, but part of him still itched to make Yohji see the severity of what he had done, and it wasn't without some satisfaction that he noted the blonde's face turning green.

"Shit. Oh, fuck."

The coffee mug slammed down on the table as Yohji needed both hands to hide his face.

"I'm so, so, sorry, Aya," came his muffled voice from between his fingers. "I… I really don't know what the hell got into me. I mean… I know that we all hate him, but… okay, not you… but not even he has deserved that."

It was then, in this very humiliating pose, that Yohji came to some sort of resolution with himself. If Aya, despite what he had done, was willing to give him a chance, which indeed he was, Yohji would do all in his might to take it, and to take it properly. If it meant befriending Schuldig, Yohji would do that, too. He would apologise to the man and do whatever he could to set things straight again – hell, he'd give the German foot rubs if he demanded it; to atone for his own vile behaviour and win Aya's affections.

This was it. There was no stopping, no going back and no half-hearted attempt at seduction. Yohji's one shot at some of the things he had always wanted. Looking up slowly, he realised that Aya's eyes were still glued onto him, still with that slight sense of shock somewhere in the lilac orbs.

"So…" Yohji said slowly, swallowing. "At least please wake him for me? You might not think it, but I strongly resent the thought of my brain dribbling out of my ears for trying to wake a guy."

Aya nodded, and Yohji thought he saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at his lips. Without a word, Aya turned and walked out of the kitchen, apparently expecting Yohji to follow. He did, but not without feeling a little like the rabbit about to walk into the lion's den. 

------------------------------- 

"God damn it. Fucking hell. Shit."

Schuldig didn't spare any curses in any of the languages he knew as he stared out the window, too angry to know what else to do.

He'd had his apology from Kudo. He'd given his forgiveness, not really caring either way. And then Fujimiya had dropped the bomb.

Kudo wanted to hang out with him. With _them_. Not that Schuldig was that possessive of Aya; he knew he had no claims anywhere. But if the bloody, self-proclaimed 'good guys' needed a fuck-buddy, why couldn't they just tell him so? Why all this dancing around the matter like it actually meant something to them what he thought? It wasn't the first time Schuldig put out for the sake of peace, and it wouldn't be the last, but fuck it! They should have made it clear where he stood from the beginning.

Fujimiya _and_ Kudo. He assumed it was only a matter of time before the rest demanded to join in, as well. Some days he seriously wondered what the hell he had done to end up in these shitty positions. One team that only saw him as a resourceful brain slash ass, and another… another that had disposed of him when he wasn't useful anymore.

Unwanted everywhere. Even Schuldig's bad-ass image couldn't quite conceal the fact that this was not what he had wished for. But, he'd be good. He needed Weiss in order to survive. Though why he wanted to survive had seriously started to be beyond him.

---------------------------------

The kick-boxing dummy in the Weiss gym was starting to look seriously worn-out, Ken thought to himself as he pounced it repeatedly, enjoying the dull, smacking sounds it produced. It hadn't looked so bad before, but during the last week, it had gotten whacked around more than it had since they bought it two years ago.

Ken was angry. While that wasn't an unusual state of mind for him, he normally knew that he'd simmer down eventually, given the right amount of time. But he had been permanently pissed off for days on end now, and it didn't feel like it would ever get better again.

Delivering a nasty kick to the dummy's mid-section, he knew he was about to give into self-pity, but there was only so much a guy could take before seriously starting to question why fate was laughing him in the face repeatedly, and Ken had just about taken as much as he could handle.

He had thought he was doing so well. The end of his career, barely begun; his near-dying in a burning warehouse; his recruitment into a business that required all traces of his existence eradicated and his family told of his tragic death; the knowledge that his best friend had been the cause of it all… He had bitten it off and swallowed it, moved on.

Sure, he had ranted and raved and, God forbid anyone ever found out, cried over it. He had been pissed off and pissing drunk and raced his bike down rain-wet streets at a ridiculous speed just to calm the blood that seemed to always rage through his veins, and it had worked. It had made him feel better. Only temporarily, of course, but still. He had gotten his life back under control every time, but now he felt fairly sure that that control was finally slipping.

Schuldig was in their house. His _home_. And, what was even worse, the others approved of it. Aya, the bastard, who had always been his partner in bad temper, had_ slept_ with the revolting fuck. Ken's head was swimming in so many directions that he didn't know which way was Sunday. He wasn't quite sure how many times his life could keep collapsing on him like this.

Or rather, he was fairly sure his life could collapse on him innumerable times still, and that it would, but what he wasn't sure of was how many more times he could patch it up again. There was a limit to everything, after all, and as he landed yet another blow in the dummy's chest, he thought to himself that maybe this was his limit, but if it was, he'd be damned if he want down before the bloody dummy.

-----------------------------

Someone was rapping at his door. Nagi almost jumped out of his seat; he had been so deeply embedded in his schoolbooks that he hadn't heard anyone approach.

"Come in!" he called cheerfully, while silently hoping it wasn't Crawford.

The American had gotten on Nagi's nerves lately, more than he usually did. It was true that he had never liked their leader, but he had at least respected him, in the beginning. But as he had gotten older and smarter and started picking up on more things, like the way Crawford would speak about, or even to, Schuldig, and the way he always seemed to treat the German with barely restrained contempt, Nagi had slowly begun to lose that respect.

Schuldig wasn't a good person; Nagi had never pretended as much. But he had been good to_ him_, and that was what had counted. Sure; he was a pain in the butt with his attitude, his teasing and his constant smirking, but… He had tried. They all did. None of them had much of a life, but they tried to do what they could with what had been dealt to them, and in many ways, having Schuldig around was like having an irritating older brother. One that Nagi, much as he would never admit it, missed terribly.

But to his relief, it was Farfarello's white head that poked in through the door, along with two cans of soda and a wealth of pocky sticks.

"It's the tooth fairy," he said cheerfully and slipped in through the door, placing the treats on Nagi's desk. It seemed he was having one of his more lucid moments again, something he had had a lot since Schuldig was… Nagi didn't like to dwell on the thought. Since Schuldig had 'disappeared', was what he had settled on, since the d-word could not, must not ever be associated with the German unless Nagi was to lose all control of both his mind and his powers.

Yes, with Schuldig gone, it seemed that the Irishman, much to his credit, was trying to fill some of the void he had left behind, at least for Nagi, who felt the emptiness more than any of the others. Crawford, of course, didn't care either way, but Nagi had started to suspect that perhaps he and Farfarello were a little alike in the respect that they actually did. The increasing number of 'good days' that the Irishman had had lately made Nagi suspect that he wasn't always as far gone as he let on.

He put the books away and pulled his legs up under himself, eyeing the white-haired teen as he placed himself in the middle of Nagi's narrow bed.

"Do you ever wonder what happened to him, Farfarello?" Nagi asked suddenly, feeling that he had to know for some reason.

"What a question. Of course I do," was the calm answer. Apparently, the abrupt question hadn't faced the Irishman a bit.

"So," Nagi said quietly and bored blue eyes into Farfarello's yellow one, "why did you do it? Why did you shoot him?"

Farfarello shrugged.

"I was ordered to. Wouldn't _you _have done it?"

Nagi hesitated for a long time, silently staring down at his hands before replying. He hated the words that came out of his mouth, but lying to Farfarello was as silly as lying to himself; they both knew the truth.

"I… I think I would have. I don't know. I'd probably be too scared of what the repercussions would be if I didn't," he finally admitted. "I know… they'd torture me. I can't… I couldn't handle that."

_Some buddy I am,_ he thought scornfully to himself while feelings his cheeks flush with embarrassment. _I'd rather shoot my best friend than get hurt myself._

It wasn't so much that he couldn't handle pain; he was an Eszet agent like the rest, and they had all been taught how to endure, or even ignore, pain. It was just that he had had one experience too many of being put through pain while having no escape. Getting shot or kicked in the guts was nothing compared to the paralysing fear of realising that you were facing people intent on hurting you while knowing there was absolutely no way out. Nagi knew that better than most.

"Why _did_ you do it?" he suddenly asked, looking up. "_You_ don't care about torture. You can't even _feel_ it."

Farfarello gave him a piercing stare, and he held it for so long that Nagi was seriously starting to think he had insulted him, somehow, and would end up a splatter on the floor himself. But just as he was about to give up on an answer and scramble out of the room, the older teen spoke softly:

"There are other things I fear."

"Um… such as what?" Nagi blinked, not quite prepared for an answer of that calibre.

"Nothing meant for your little ears," Farfarello said with a wry grin and tapped him on the nose. Nagi frowned.

"I'm not exactly lily-white, you know," he commented and got a wink in return.

"I know. But some things are still not meant for little kiddies."

"As if you're that much older yourself!"

"I'm not, but at least I don't look like five."

"No, you look sixty, with that white rug of yours!"

They both grinned at that, and the bantering was starting to make Nagi feel a little bit lighter at heart. It was almost like…

Almost like having Schuldig here, he thought, and his heart sank into his toes again. Farfarello must have picked up on it, because he ruffled his own white hair and winked.

"It hasn't always been white. Remember when Schuldig had snuck into my bathroom and filled my shampoo bottle with pink dye?"

That made Nagi hiccup a little in a vain attempt to keep himself from snickering. The memory of a highly irate Farfarello, draped in a towel, dripping water all over the carpet and shouting curses in just about every language he could think of while tugging angrily at his cherry-pink hair would probably never leave him. Apparently white hair dyed easier than anything else.

_You and your silly pranks,_ he thought as he reached out for one of the soda cans, offering the other one to Farfarello. _I wonder if you ever suspected how much I'd miss them when you weren't around anymore._

It made him feel slightly better thinking that if,_ if_, Schuldig somehow was still alive, he could possibly pick up on that thought. For all Nagi knew, he might be able to hear him even if he wasn't around anymore, and as scant a comfort as that was, it was the only one he had. So he kept repeating the same thing in his mind over and over, every now and then glancing over at Farfarello, who, from the looks of it, was thinking the same thing.

_We miss you, you irritating bastard._


	14. NOT an update but

Dear all,

Although this is not an update, I would like to tell you that we have not abandoned this fic. Real life has just gotten seriously in the way, and it's been quite a turbulent time with family tragedies, financial problems and various other time-consuming problems. There simply hasn't been as much time, or inspiration, to write as there used to be.

For those of you who used to visit our homepage; it's still up, but as we have moved abroad and switched suppliers, we can no longer access or update it. It should technically not even be running, but someone seems to have missed that.

We're still getting fantastic reviews, and I'd like to say a heartfelt "thank you" to all of you for that. I personally hate when fics you enjoy are left hanging, but we will do our very best to make sure that that is not the case here. We might not be as fast as we used to be, but we do plan on continuing the story. Sooner or later.


End file.
